


Can't Live Without Your Love

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: Ben, Reed, and Sue are called to the planet Zyndar to negotiate a peace treaty between three warring worlds. They discover that, unfortunately, they have only been accepted as negotiators because the Zyndarians wrongly believe they are, all three of them, married, and such a union is considered blessed. With billions of lives on the line, they must pretend to be married to end a war and simultaneously fend off attacks from the evil sorceress who began the war in the first place.Takes place between Fantastic Four v1 #27 and Fantastic Four v1 #35.***Sue flipped over onto her back and blew a lock of blonde hair away from her face. “Johnny isn’t here. Technically we’re more—“ She waved her hand in the air indecisively. “—the Terrific Trio?”“Ew,” Ben said, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Don’t call us that.”Sue grinned over at him. “The Tremendous Trio?”“No,” Ben said.“Fabulous Three?”“Worse.”“Well, we definitely areveryfabulous.”***Written for Fantastic Four Week 2018





	Can't Live Without Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings in the end notes!

Ben inhaled with no small amount of pleasure as a cool breeze swept through the window near which he had managed to find refuge. Zyndarian air smelled sweeter, cleaner, and purer than any he had ever found on Earth, as though it had drifted straight from a field of blossoming flowers.

There was no trace of pollution in the air here, unsurprising given the verdant forests and fields of wild flowers that covered Zyndar. Flying overhead, Ben had thought at first that there was no life at all on Zyndar—there was no trace of any edifices visible from above the forest’s thick canopy.

When Ben had asked the three princesses how that was possible, Princess Seitul of Zyndar had laughed and said that her people lived in tree and earth, brook and dale. They had little need for anything else.

Even the royal palace in which Ben stood seemed to be intentionally constructed in such a way that left the forest as undisturbed as possible. The palace incorporated towering, still living trees that stretched high up, farther than Ben could see, interwoven with the buildings themselves through some mixture of magic and science that not even Reed could comprehend.

It was difficult, while gazing appreciatively at the serene beauty of Zyndar, to believe that it had been at war for so many long decades.

And yet it had been. Was still, despite the brief truce that had been called.

That, after all, was why Ben, Reed, and Sue had traveled to a planet so many lightyears from Earth—to put a stop to a war that had been raging for so long and claimed countless lives.

The war would, perhaps, have continued to be fought interminably, if the three crown princesses of the three warring worlds—Zyndar, Selus, and Erum—hadn’t all been abducted, and, during the weeks they spent languishing in captivity, fallen in love.

The Fantastic Four had stumbled across the space pirates’ lair—accidentally, after Reed insisted they explore a neighboring nebula and intercepted an SOS signal the Selusian princess had somehow managed to send—and rescued and befriended the princesses.

Reed, Ben, Sue, and Johnny were all rather surprised when, not a month later, they received a royal request from all three planets to serve as negotiators of an imminent peace treaty, which the princesses demanded be signed by the time of their wedding and subsequent ascension to the throne.

Johnny, busy with his classes at Glenville High, had decided that he could not spend several weeks off-planet, and thus had opted to remain behind, with Reed and Sue’s blessing.

Ben, who realized instantly that the mission could have been a wonderful second honeymoon for Reed and Sue, had briefly considered staying behind, but Reed and Sue had been adamant that he accompany them.

Ben couldn’t understand why. Even here at the reception dinner the princess had insisted on throwing, he felt so badly out of place. What was a man who grew up in the dirt and grime of Yancy Street doing here, rubbing shoulders with these aristocrats? As he stood in the massive ballroom, back pressed to the wall, and surveyed the resplendent figures all he could think, over and over again, was that he didn’t belong here.

If only his older brother Dan, whose aspirations during his all-too-brief life had never strayed beyond the narrow confines of Yancy Street, could see him now. Dan had scoffed years ago when Ben had told him for the first but certainly not the last time that he was going to visit the stars one day. "You need spaceships just ta get near one,” Dan had told him, not unkindly. “You 'n me ain't never gettin' near a spaceship. That takes money, and we ain't got any." He had swept his hand dramatically at the street they were walking down—at old Mrs. O'Hara, sweeping the dust off of her front porch, at Mr. and Mrs. Shapiro, screaming at each other through an open window, at the rickety fences and rundown buildings that Ben had come to simply accept as the way things were on Yancy Street. "Take a good look, little brother, cause this is the best yer ever gonna do." Ben's little face must have looked crestfallen, because Dan's eyes softened and he put a hand on one of Ben's small shoulders and squeezed. "Aw, whaddya want with a buncha stars, anyways? This's good enough for the Grimm boys. Yancy Street’s ours, and we ain't never leavin' it."

And Dan—Dan never had. He had died there, in the dirt, his blood pouring over Ben’s fingers in thick rivulets as Ben had futilely attempted to staunch the knife wound in his gut. It had seemed such a waste—a man as brave and good as Dan, dying a meaningless death in a meaningless gang war. For what? Ben had asked himself over and over since that day.

Ben gazed up at the stars shimmering in the darkness as he had been doing all his life, and wondered which, of all of them, was the one on which his brother was buried. Reed could probably tell him, but they all looked identical to Ben.

Ben’s thoughts drifted to what it had been like, when he was a boy growing up in the dirt of Yancy Street, to look up at the stars and what it had meant to him then.

He would look around at his rundown, ramshackle home, at the dirt that covered everything he owned, dirt he could never get away from, dirt that filled even the smoggy sky, and despair.

But at night, at night, he could gaze upward at the stars wheeling overhead and marvel at their purity, their tranquility, their cleanness. Things would be better, he would tell himself over and over, if he could simply…reach one.

It would be nice there, he thought, far, far away from all his troubles.

Now he was older; now he had been to the stars he had once only dreamt of visiting; now he knew all too well that your troubles followed you wherever you went, no matter how long or how far you ran. There was no escape, not anywhere.

His eyes wandered to where Reed and Sue, their arms wrapped cozily around each other, were laughing merrily with the three princesses. He marveled for the thousandth time at Reed and Sue’s beauty. His heart ached with need, with want, with love for them both.

Being near them was bliss; it was torture; they were the bane of his existence; they were also his joy, his delight, everything that made his life worth living.

This was his life. He was in love with both of his best friends, both of whom who were in love with each other.

Neither of whom loved him.

Ben had been so desperately in love with Reed for so very long. He still remembered with painful clarity the moment when he had realized that he was Reed’s, body and soul.

It hadn’t taken very long. Only a few short weeks after he and Reed first became roommates at State University, in those first, wary days before Ben had figured Reed out. Ben had invited Reed to go to a roof party with the football team, and Reed had, much to Ben’s surprise, agreed to accompany him.

Everyone else had gone stumbling back drunkenly to their dorm rooms, but Ben and Reed remained on the roof, feet dangling over the edge, and talking in the cool night air until the sun had begun peeking over the horizon.

Reed, Ben discovered, was so very different than what he had expected. Unlike anyone he had ever met.

Ben had taken one look at Reed and assumed he would be like every other spoiled rich boy he had ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with—stuck-up, arrogant, elitist—but Reed had seemed very vague about money—the way only someone who had never had to worry about it all their lives could ever be—and hadn’t seemed to care about the difference in their class status.

When Reed looked at Ben with those warm brown eyes—the kindest Ben thought he had ever seen—Ben felt as though Reed saw him. All of him. Understood him. In a way no one ever had before.

It made Ben feel as though he could tell him anything.

And before he knew what was happening, Ben found himself telling Reed that he planned on becoming an astronaut someday.

Ben stiffened, expecting the laughter, the condescension, the heartbreak he had experienced all his life.

Reed smiled. Or, at the very least, he started to—but Ben, convinced he already knew every word Reed was about to say, cut him off. “Yeah, of course, laugh at me like everyone else always has. The kid from the wrong side o’ the tracks becomin’ an astronaut? Sounds like a Lifetime movie.”

Reed frowned. “What’s Lifetime?”

“It’s a—“ How did Reed not know what Lifetime was? “Geez, Reed, we really gotta buy you a television.”

“Ah,” Reed said, nodding sagely, as though he understood everything now. “Television.”

Reed said it vaguely, as though it were some mythical being he had heard of but never encountered in person.

Ben knew it was partly because Reed was a little bit tipsy, but he suspected also that Reed had never watched television in his life.

The thought concerned him more than he thought it would.

“I’m sure you have no idea what I was going to say, Benjamin,” Reed said primly.

“Yeah?” Ben challenged. “So what were you gonna say?”

“I was going to say that it’s quite a coincidence that you’re going to space someday, because so am I.”

A delighted smile began spreading across Ben’s face. “You are?”

“I am,” Reed confirmed. “I’ll build the spaceship.” He held out a slender hand beneath a smile that was as wide as Ben’s. “If you’ll fly it.”

Ben took the outstretched hand. It was softer than any Ben had ever held before.

Ben shook it. “Deal,” he said. “You’re on, partner.”

Falling in love with Reed was easy after that.

Falling in love with Sue, who he and Reed had met during a particularly scorching summer three years later, was infinitely more complicated.

Ben had been sick with envy at first because he could see how taken with her Reed was. There was a certain light in Reed's eyes when he looked at her…at first, Ben could never bear to watch them together. Even so many years later, there were times when it still felt like a knife twisting cruelly in his heart. But at first it had felt…it had felt worse. His heart plucked, still beating, from his chest. That was what it had felt like when Ben saw the way they looked at each other, the dizzy, breathless, spellbound gazing into each other’s eyes.

It made it clear to Ben that Reed had never looked at him that way, not once.

He had resented Sue because he knew, he knew, that no one could ever love Reed half as much as he did. It wasn’t possible for Sue to love Reed the way he did. Love everything about him—his infuriating stubbornness, his strange sense of humor, his absentmindedness, his nobility and generosity that verged on recklessness—Ben loved all of it.

But then he had gotten to know Sue—her fierceness, her intelligence, her strength, her ruthlessness, her iron will and determination—and ever so slowly, much to his surprise, he had begun to admire her, and not long after that, he had even begun to like her.

Somehow, she snuck into his heart, and he knew she would never leave.

He thought, for a few months, that he had fallen out of love with Reed and in love with Sue, thought she belonged with him, thought that if only he could make her see that, perhaps he could find happiness at last.

But then he had realized that he was wrong. He noticed that when he imagined himself with Reed, Sue was always there, and when he imagined himself with Sue, Reed was always there. Sue would be there in the mornings Ben imagined, kissing him hello, slapping Reed playfully on the ass on her way to the coffee machine and the piles of pancakes Ben had prepared for them, and she would be there in the nights he imagined too, holding Reed down while Ben fucked him, eyes hungry, mouth hot.

There was room, it seemed, in Ben’s heart for two hopeless idealists.

And that…had been that.

Ben's deep, hopeless love for Reed and Sue never faded, never went away. If anything, it deepened as the years went by.

Reed and Sue never noticed how Ben felt.

Ben never got over them.

Oh, he spent years after they graduated from college trying to convince himself that he had. He even signed up for the Air Force to get away from Reed and Sue in the vain hope that perhaps, at last, he could persuade his heart to love someone else.

The day Ben mustered out, Reed and Sue had been there, waiting for him in the dirt-and-gravel parking lot, the sky above them as clear and blue and windswept as Sue’s eyes, as the sundress that billowed picturesquely in the breeze as she leaned against Reed’s expensive red convertible. Reed, dressed in a stylish blue blazer, was smiling in the way that always made Ben's heart flutter.

They were perfect. More beautiful than he had remembered. More beautiful than he ever would have thought possible.

“I’ve built it,” Reed had said, excitement simmering beneath his seeming calm. “The spaceship. It’s nearly ready. Are you ready to fly it, old friend?”

He had stretched out his hand. An offer. Everything Ben had always wanted—space. Adventure. Reed. Sue.

Ben had never had a choice. He had taken Reed’s hand that day, and he had known then that his heart would always belong to Reed and Sue, no matter how far or how long he ran. So he had given up trying.

He had followed Reed and Sue again, and he knew then, in his heart of hearts, that he would keep following them, always. No matter what, no matter where, it all led.

Even if that 'what' ended up being turning into a giant orange rock monster.

Ben’s eyes fixed on his hand, pale and human at last. He marveled at the muscles flexing beneath the skin and wondered how long it would last this time.

This was far from the first time that he had reverted to his human form. He could control his transformations this time, it seemed, but every time he shifted into the Thing, he feared that it would be the last, that he would be trapped that way forever, in a rocky prison of his own making.

Ben snagged a drink—alcoholic, he hoped—from the tray of a waiter who was strolling past, and he drank, and drank, and drank, hoping against hope that it would fill the hollow in the pit of his stomach.

The drink was sweeter than anything that had ever touched his tongue before—a bouquet of red, red roses, tumbling sweetly down his throat.

He reached for another.

* * *

Reed ran his fingers lightly round the rim of his glass he had not yet drunk from and allowed the hum of the reception the princesses had thrown for the arriving dignitaries to wash over him. Beside him, Sue was regaling a group of admirers with the story of how the Fantastic Four had all acquired their powers.

Her tale sent Reed’s mind careening down unpleasant but well-trodden avenues of thought and memory.

Two bare years had passed since the fateful day of the rocket crash, since the day that Reed had failed the three people he loved most in all the world more thoroughly than he had ever failed anyone ever before. Reed had been Icarus, soaring up to touch the stars, to journey further into the heavens than humanity had ever dared before…and his fall to Earth had been no less painful and ignominious.

Worse, because he alone had not paid the price for his arrogance. Sue, Johnny, and Ben had paid it with him.

Their bodies had been changed irrevocably that day, had become something other than human. Reed had never sought to reverse the change in himself—he knew he deserved it, deserved all of it. His carelessness. His thoughtlessness. It had all led to this.

But Ben...Ben had not deserved his fate. Nor had Sue. Nor Johnny.

They deserved love and admiration and all the best the world had to offer.

That was what Reed had done his best to offer them in the wake of the rocket crash. He had worked and worked and worked himself to the bone, worked to give them the sun, the stars, the whole universe at their beck and call, worked until there was nothing left, and then he had kept working. All for them. Everything for them.

Ben sometimes, in the early days, right after the crash, would look at Reed with such hatred, his words dripping with venom and resentment, and Reed could not utter a single word of reproach. Could not defend himself. He deserved absolutely everything Ben did to him, and more. There was no way to ever repay the debt he owed him. He had destroyed Ben’s life, and Sue’s, and Johnny’s, and he knew it all too well.

The guilt consumed him. It filled his every waking thought. There were times when he thought he would suffocate beneath the weight of it.

Whatever they would have become had he not—foolishly, so foolishly, and it pained him now to think of how sure he had been that he had been doing what was right and necessary—persuaded them to join him on that ill-advised flight, he had stolen from them all.

Johnny…was young and didn’t yet understand what Reed had taken from him.

Sue, whose love for Reed had never wavered before, had begun a flirtation with the Sub-Mariner. Reed had thought—the Sub-Mariner had abducted her a few weeks ago…surely that would have led her to end things with him? She had told Namor—she had—that it was all over between them, that it was Reed she loved, but Reed…could not bring himself to believe it. Had she meant it, or had she merely said it to ensure that Namor left her in peace?

She had seemed, these last few weeks, to have given herself over to Reed completely. She had spent every night since then in Reed’s bed, and she had been as wild, and sweet, and passionate as she had been before doubts about her love for Reed had begun to consume her.

But…it was too good to be true. Perhaps Reed was getting his hopes up. Perhaps it meant nothing.

As for Ben…Reed soon realized that Ben’s outbursts of rage and hatred was preferable to the sight of him, broken, despairing, suicidal, coupled with the knowledge that Reed had caused the man he loved so dearly so much pain. That had broken Reed’s heart more thoroughly than he had ever thought possible. Ben was the living reminder of Reed’s greatest failure, and there were days when Reed could hardly stand to look at him, at the full horror of what his unforgivable foolishness had wrought.

He had, a bare two months ago, discovered what he believed was a permanent cure for Ben…but he had thought so before. He knew it, and Ben knew it. They were both waiting for the day this wonderful respite ended.

But until then…at last they could breathe. At last they could look into each other’s eyes and see nothing there but the joy they had always found in each other’s company, untarnished by guilt, rage, or resentment.

Reed cast his eyes about the room—Ben had excused himself not long after Sue had begun her story, perhaps due to thoughts not dissimilar to Reed’s.

Reed’s eyes found Ben standing near an open window, back to the wall, brooding, alone, and imbibing far too much alcohol. That did not bode well.

Reed murmured a quiet excuse in Sue’s ear and made his way through the crowd toward his dearest and oldest friend.

Ben stared glumly down at his Zyndarian cocktail—a fluorescent mixture of brilliant reds and oranges, more vibrant than a sunset—and failed to take note of Reed’s arrival.

Reed reached out and grasped Ben’s arm to alert him to his presence…but Ben flinched and drew away, an angry scowl marring his face.

“Oh,” Reed said, jerking his hand away. “My—my apologies.”

Of course. Of course Ben recoiled from Reed’s touch—how could he not after all Reed had done to him? Reed may have found a cure—he hoped—but he had been a fool to think that Ben had forgiven him.

“No,” Ben said, eyes not meeting Reed’s. Was he hoping to hide the loathing that hid in their depths? “It’s my fault. I was just—thinkin’.”

An excuse. A flimsy one at best.

“No,” Reed said. “I shouldn’t have presumed to—without asking. It was my fault, of course. I didn’t mean to—“ Touch him. “—startle you. Are you...all right?”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “Just...tired, I guess.” He downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was a long flight.”

That much was true. A week it had taken to get here. Just the three of them in a spaceship that was much too small.

“Yes,” Reed agreed. “That it was.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Reed frowned down at the tips of his shiny dress shoes until at last Ben ventured, “You know I ain’t used to swanky shindigs like this.” Ben’s eyes found Sue in the crowd, while a faint smile found its way to his lips. “Wasn’t made for them like Suzie is.”

Reed searched her out as well—she had a ring of admirers round her, all laughing uproariously at her latest witticism, and Reed still failed to understand why she had ever agreed to go out with him at all. She was born to be a queen.

“Yes,” Reed said. “I’m here primarily to accompany Sue myself.” He smiled hopefully at Ben. “But perhaps…you could keep me company? If you…if you feel like it.”

Ben smiled, and it was tinged with relief. “Yeah, Stretch. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Except try that Ridallian stew when I asked you to, you mean,” Reed smiled back.

“It was still moving!” Ben protested. “I wasn’t puttin’ that in my mouth!”

Reed shrugged. “Which insulted the Ridallian high priestess and led to us fleeing in a rather undignified manner back to our ship.” He paused. “And then the entire Ridallian starfleet decided to pursue us. This is why you should do what I tell you, old friend. I am far wiser than you in these matters.”

“Hey, the starfleet part was the kid’s fault, not mine. Although if the high priestess’ kid hadn’t been so damn good-lookin’, Johnny probably wouldn’t have gotten caught makin’ out with him by the kid’s boyfriend. Y’ know, the Ridallian prince.”

“Johnny made out with who?” Reed said, frowning. “I didn’t know about that.”

“You didn’t? Why do you think the fancy kid in blue had spittle flyin’ out of his mouth when he was screamin’ at us?”

“I assumed he cared very deeply about Ridallian stew.”

“Nah, he cared about the tongue Johnny was stickin’ down his boyfriend’s throat. Least, I hope it was a tongue.”

Reed pointedly chose to ignore Ben’s last comment. “Is that why he threatened to cut off Johnny’s tongue? I thought that was strange.”

There was so much about that little misadventure that was finally making a very belated sort of sense.

Reed certainly needed to have a talk with Johnny about exercising a tad more caution during his flirtations.

The thought of having that conversation with Johnny made Reed feel very mournful. He had yet to accustom himself to thinking of Johnny as being old enough to go on dates, much less make out with anyone.

It seemed like only yesterday that Johnny was a sweet, rosy-cheeked little boy more interested in cars than he was in dating. He had hero-worshipped Reed and followed him around like a lost puppy. It had all been very endearing.

Reed would even let Johnny help him in his lab. Simple things, like handing him tools. It was very much worth the added time it took to explain the different tools just to see how overjoyed the boy became at the chance of helping Reed build his machines. His enthusiasm had been infectious.

Lately, though, Johnny had been too busy with his love life to spend much time with Reed. There had also been some discussion of how Reed was too old and not particularly cool. Reed had simply dismissed Johnny’s opinions as a byproduct of puberty. He was sure Johnny would grow out of them.

Oh, how Reed missed the little boy Johnny had once been and felt very sorry that he would never have the chance to see him again. Johnny was growing up far too fast, and it was making Reed feel much older than his twenty-eight years of life warranted.

At the very least Johnny retained some of his childlike innocence.

Ben snorted. “I don’t think utaka means tongue in Ridallian, Reed. Try goin’ lower.”

Ben looked pointedly at Reed’s crotch.

Reed had no desire whatsoever to ever think at all about Johnny and sex. As far as Reed was concerned, Johnny had no idea what sex was. That it even existed. Certainly Johnny himself had never—

Reed felt his face turn crimson, then what he was sure must be a deep shade of purple.

“You don’t think that Johnny’s had—but he’s only just turned seventeen!” Reed bellowed. “He’s still a boy and he shouldn’t even be thinking about—who told him about sex? I certainly didn’t! Was it Sue? Good lord, Ben, he’s still a child!“

“He’s almost an adult, and besides, he’s America’s teen sweetheart. You really thought he was gonna wait until he hit eighteen when practically every teen in America is throwin’ themselves at him?”

Wait until he was eighteen? Reed had been thinking more along the lines of thirty. Possibly forty. Fifty, if Reed was lucky.

Reed felt sick to his stomach. Johnny was likely engaging in sexual activities when he was far too young, and it was all Reed’s fault. If he hadn’t allowed Johnny to join him on that ill-fated rocket flight, Johnny wouldn’t have become a celebrity. He’d still be a normal boy with a normal life and no one would be throwing themselves at anyone.

“Oh, god,” Reed said, clutching at his stomach, which was suddenly doing somersaults. “Johnny’s having sex and it’s my fault. And I didn’t even notice. Am I a bad father, Ben?”

“No, you’re not a bad father. The dad’s always the last to know about this stuff. Look, you’re lookin’ kinda pale there, buddy—you need to sit down?”

As a matter of fact, Reed was feeling a trifle woozy. “I can’t believe my little boy is having sex,” he said as Ben led him to one of the plush red chairs that were lined up against the wall.

“We’ll talk about it once you’re sitting down,” Ben said, pushing at Reed’s shoulders.

Reed was far too busy worrying about Johnny to put up much of a struggle. He hunched over and put his head in his hands as soon as he was sitting down. “Oh, god, I’m a terrible father.”

“Ben!” Sue called as she pushed through the crowd. “Is Reed all right?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied. “He just realized that Johnny’s not a kid anymore and he’s havin’ a meltdown.”

It was truly astonishing how quickly Sue managed to cross a crowded ballroom, because she was sitting next to Reed, arm round his shoulders, in no time at all.

“I’m a terrible father, Susan,” Reed said. “How did I not notice? It’s my fault, Sue! I haven’t prepared him for this at all!”

“You told him that Johnny’s having sex, didn’t you,” Sue asked Ben flatly. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Well, I didn’t think he’d take it this hard,” Ben said. “Or I probably would’ve broken it to him gentler.”

“My little boy is having sex,” Reed mumbled. “How did this happen?”

“He’s not a little boy, he’s a teenager, they’re called hormones,” Sue told Reed. “Ben, you didn’t think that Reed would overreact at finding out that Johnny’s having sex? Do you remember what happened when Johnny got his driver’s license?”

Ben winced. “Poor kid. I’ve never seen anyone have to read that many driver’s safety manuals—“

“Safety!” Reed said, sitting bolt upright. “Sue! I didn’t teach Johnny about safe sex! We have to go back to Earth right now. A week is probably long enough to get a detailed lecture ready, but we need to leave now. Johnny could be having unsafe sex as we speak!“

Talking to Johnny about sex would be uncomfortable at best, but Reed would suffer through it for Johnny’s sake. The boy deserved to know about everything that could go wrong. He needed to be adequately protected. Reed had failed to properly protect him once, and he would be damned if he ever allowed it to happen again.

He started getting to his feet with a determined sort of air, but Sue yanked him back down. “No,” she said. “Don’t worry, I covered that.”

“You covered what?”

“Safe sex, Reed,” Sue said. “He was very responsible and came to me for advice when he was still just thinking about it. I told him everything he needed to know, so we sure as hell don’t have to go back to Earth.“

“You knew that he was having sex and you didn’t tell me?” Reed said accusingly. “I thought you loved me, Sue! How could you lie about something like this?”

Sue sighed. “Because I know you and I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal! He’s a little boy!”

“He’s a teenager,” Ben said. “Teenagers have sex, Reed.”

“Not my teenagers!” Reed said stubbornly. “My teenagers are responsible and—and they wait until they’re good and ready!”

“Johnny was ready,” Sue said calmly. “I’m telling you, I talked it over with him, and he decided it was time. I was very proud of him.”

There was really nothing to do but accept the truth. “Oh, god, my little boy is having sex,” Reed said, and sagged back against his chair despondently.

Sue rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is, Reed, and you’d better get used to it.”

“Stretch, you know he’s graduating from high school in a year, don’t you?” Ben said. “He ain’t a kid anymore, and—“

Reed’s eyes widened. “Good lord! College applications! How can I have been so thoughtless?”

“Ben!” Sue said. “Why the hell would you tell him that?”

Ben threw up his hands. “He’s a genius, Suzie, he would’ve figured it out eventually!”

“You don’t know that!” Sue said. “I was hoping to keep distracting him—“

“Is that why you asked me to design that state-of-the-art kitchen for you?” Reed asked suspiciously.

Sue looked sheepish. “Partly.”

Reed managed to get all the way to his feet this time before Sue could stop him. “Well, this just settles it. We have to go back to Earth so I can help Johnny with his college applications.”

“Good god, Reed, they aren’t due for another six months!”

“Six months?! Six months! That is not enough time! Earth. I’m not joking.”

Ben and Sue exchanged exasperated glances.

“As leader of this team—“ Sue’s snort was filled with more skepticism than Reed thought was strictly necessary. “—I am ordering us back to Earth!”

“Reed. Buddy. We ain’t goin’ back to Earth after comin’ all this way just because you wanna help the kid work on college applications,” Ben said firmly.

“Pardon me,” a soft, high-pitched voice interrupted.

Reed turned round to find the three princesses, arm in arm, all frowning at them with no small amount of concern.

Princess Seitul of Zyndar, her skin as pale and cold as the sun of an early winter’s morning, was clad in a dress that was as blue-grey as the sky before a storm, and the silver-white crown rested atop her head resembled the barren branches of a tree; Princess Teinpal of Erum, her skin as warm and yellow as a summer sun, was clad in a deep, rich red, a golden crown resting atop her head that was as resplendent as the rays of the sun; last there was Princess Weyul of Selus, her skin the blue-black of a cloudless evening sky, clad in a dress as white as starlight, a shimmering diamond crown resting atop her head.

Their otherworldly beauty made Reed understand how it was that poets spent their lives attempting to capture the beauty of their beloved in rhyme and song. Beauty such as the princesses’ deserved the sort of immortality only art could convey.

“Did we hear you correctly?” Seitul said.

“You are returning to your planet before negotiations have even begun?” Weyul continued, disapproval evident in her iron voice.

“Then all hope is lost,” Teinpal concluded. “She will win.”

Seitul’s eyes flashed. “This was not the bargain that was struck. Break it at your peril.”

“Bargain?” Reed said. “What bargain?”

Weyul’s scowl had not lessened one whit—nor, Reed suspected, had her wrath. “If you help us achieve a lasting alliance,” she said, “we shall grant you three wishes. One for each of you. Whatever your hearts desire. We conveyed this to you in our initial request.”

Reed thought—and not for the first time—that he was perhaps out of his depth here. He had never been able to grasp the intricacies of magic, which frustrated him to no end.

“We would’ve done it for free,” Ben said. “We’re heroes. It’s what we do.”

“That,” Teinpal said, “is not our way. For everything that is taken, something of equal worth must be given in exchange.”

“Should you succeed,” Weyul explained, “we would consider it a grave insult if you did not accept our gifts.”

“Ponder well your requests,” Seitul told them. “Such gifts are not given lightly. We can grant whatever your hearts desire. Nothing is beyond our power.”

Sue’s eyes hardened. “And what happens if we don’t succeed?” she said.

“Then you do not receive your gifts,” Teinpal said, allowing her hand to fall away from Sue. “And you will be allowed to return back home, of course. There will be no punishment for failure. You have our word.”

“But you cannot fail,” Seitul said. “The war must end. We must fight side by side.”

“We aren’t familiar with your ways,” Sue said. “They seem...complex. Why did you choose us to negotiate this treaty?”

“Your impartiality was necessary,” Weyul explained. “And we noted when you rescued us that...the three of you were together. On our worlds, a trinity such as yours—“ Her eyes softened as she turned to Seitul and Teinpal. “—and such as ours is considered sacred. Blessed. Particularly when the trinity is, like yours, bound together by unbreakable ties of love and marriage. When we learned you were also diplomats, it seemed a sign from the gods that you were destined to bring peace to our three worlds.”

Reed felt Ben stiffen to his right, Sue to his left. His own heart constricted in his breast. “Marriage,” he managed to croak out. “What...what do you mean, marriage?”

“Yes. Your son told us the three of you were an old married couple,” Weyul said simply. “Which was a blessing, because if you weren’t, then our worlds would not have accepted you as negotiators and all hope for peace would be lost. Millions would die in the ensuing war. Perhaps billions. It is lucky you were wed.”

Reed’s mouth worked. He...couldn’t tell them he wasn’t married to Ben and Sue, he couldn’t say he was…suffice it to say, he didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, it was lucky we’re all married,” Sue answered for him. Her voice was shockingly assured and confident. Reed could detect no hint of a lie. If he hadn’t known that she was lying, he would have been convinced himself. “We have all been married for three years.” She slipped her arms through Ben and Reed’s as though they were both hers. “It was a lovely wedding. New York. Honeymoon on the moon. We had a wonderful time. Didn’t we, boys?”

“Y-yes,” Reed stammered. “We did. Sue wore white. A white wedding dress. It was very, uh, fashionable. Her friend Janet designed it. Janet, uh, Van Dyne. She is. A super hero. It’s what. What we also do.”

Ben was still gaping, open-mouthed, at Reed and Sue. Weyul was frowning at him.

“Uh, Ben,” Sue said through gritted teeth. “Wasn’t the wedding beautiful, my darling?”

It took Ben a second too long to answer. “Uh,” he said faintly. “Yeah. It was. A blast. Time of my life. Best part was carrying both of these yahoos over the threshold.” At the confused look on the princesses’ faces, he added, “It’s, uh, an Earth custom. When you go into the home you’ll share with your, uh, spouse for the first time after you’re married, you’re supposed to carry them in. For good luck.”

Seitul seemed perplexed. “How do you decide who gets carried, Benjamin Grimm?”

“Uh,” Ben said. “Well, see, normally when it’s a guy and a girl gettin’ married the guy carries the girl—“

Sue stepped in hurriedly to add, “But since there were three of us, Ben just carried Reed and me. Because Ben’s the strongest of the three of us.“

“Ah,” Seitul said, apparently satisfied. “Then it is decided by physical strength.”

“Yes,” Sue said, sounding relieved that Seitul had bought that explanation. “Physical strength is considered, um, very important in a marriage. It means you’ll have, um, strong children.”

“Yes,” Seitul said. “That seems wise.”

Teinpal, whose eyes had been fixed across the room, leaned close to her beloved and whispered, “Our mothers. They have arrived. They summon us.”

Reed turned to follow Teinpal’s gaze, to the space where once there had once been only bark and leaf.

Three thrones there were, of gold and diamond and silver, and upon them sat three queens of fearsome beauty. They were terrible to behold, and yet Reed could not seem to tear his eyes away.

He had glimpsed Utal, Seitul’s mother, briefly when he returned the princesses to Zyndar, but he had not spoken to her. The other two queens he had never seen before. They resembled their daughters, although there was an agelessness about them that in three princesses was simply youthfulness.

“We must go,” Weyul said. “We dare not disobey a summons.”

In their wake an awkward silence settled between Ben, Reed, and Sue. None wanted to be the first to broach the subject.

“So how are we going to pull this off?” Reed asked, voice low so they would not be overheard.

He could not bring himself to look either of them in the eye, and so he fixed his eyes on the toe of Sue’s golden shoe.

“You and Suzie won’t be a problem,” Ben said lowly. “Just act normal.”

“If we’re going to make it believable that we’re together,” Sue said, stumbling hastily over the words, “the way they think we are, Ben, we’ll have to—Reed and I...we’ll have to...be affectionate with you. As if we were really married.”

“Yeah,” Ben said wearily, scrubbing at his face. “Yeah.”

“I mean we may have to hold hands,” Sue continued.

She didn’t seem particularly happy about any of this. Neither did Ben, for that matter.

“Yeah, I got that,” Ben said.

“Maybe even kiss. On the mouth.”

Ben turned pale. His mouth compressed into a thin line.

It was disgust. Reed knew that was what it was. Ben couldn’t bear the thought of touching Reed. Of even pretending that he didn’t…didn’t loathe him.

Reed couldn’t blame him. He knew he deserved all the scorn Ben could possibly heap upon him, and yet the knowledge that Ben loathed him so deeply cut more keenly than a knife.

Ben nodded—a short, jerky nod. He seemed deeply unhappy about it all.

If Ben hated Reed so, Reed would respect that. He would keep his distance. Perhaps that would help ease Ben’s fears.

“Perhaps the two of you should dance,” Reed ventured, his eyes fixed on the revelers in the center of the ballroom. He wouldn’t dare suggest that Ben should dance with him. “It will look strange if we don’t.”

Sue held out her hand to Ben silently, and Ben stared at it as though it were a hangman’s noose before he welled up the courage to place his hand in hers.

Reed watched Sue lead him to the dance floor and flounder as they struggled to learn the intricate whirling dance of the Zyndarians and then he smiled when their confusion gave way to delight and laughter.

He was glad that they could find such joy in each other. He wished only that he was not barred from it as well. He knew far too well that if he tried to get near Ben, to touch him, Ben would recoil as though Reed’s touch burned.

Reed’s eyes wandered around the room—Weyul and Teinpal were speaking quietly with their mothers, eyes flitting over to a dimly-lit corner of the room. Queen Utal had disappeared.

Reed followed their gazed and discovered that it was Seitul they were looking at so worriedly, Seitul who was gazing longingly out of a window—not up at the stars as Ben was wont to do, but out at the murky depths of the forest.

He was drawn to her for some reason he could not fathom. “Your highness,” he said as he approached, inclining his head deferentially, “is there...something the matter?”

She smiled wistfully. “Can you not hear it?”

Reed focused on hearing sounds beyond the blast of merry music in the ballroom, but he heard none.

“No,” he said. “Perhaps my ears aren’t quite as good as yours. What is it you hear?”

“I hear my people in the midst of their wild revelries. I hear the sound of their joy on the wind, and it whispers to me so sweetly. I do not know if I can resist it much longer.”

“Why do you resist it at all?” Reed couldn’t help but ask.

She smiled again, but this time there was a strange sadness to it. “My beloveds disapprove. Zyndarian revelries are too wild and hedonistic. Uncivilized, they say. I suppose they are not mistaken, but I find I care little. I long to feel the kiss of a thousand stars upon my upturned face, smell flowers on the wind, and dance and dance in the fresh grass until I can dance no more.”

“Can you not dance here, your highness?”

There was a wicked gleam in the depths of her eyes, one that spread to the quirk of her mouth. “Oh, Reed Richards of Earth, dancing at a Zyndarian revel is like nothing you have ever known. This is nothing like that.”

“Is this not Zyndarian?”

“This is...the more restrained festivity my beloveds requested. More elegant, they call it. Civilized. The magic here is far less wild and untamable. Far more polite. Far more predictable. Far more...dull. I do not like it.”

Reed knew nothing of magic, but he knew a little about wildness. “Your highness,” he whispered conspiratorially, “if you were to sneak out of here...I would tell no one.”

Seitul seemed intrigued by his offer. “Would you accompany me, Reed Richards of Earth?”

Reed was tempted, he had to admit. His curiosity had always gotten the better of him, and while he could not hear the music, he could see the forest, lying in wait all around him, and he wanted to dive into its depths and learn all its secrets.

But when his eyes found Ben and Sue, smiling, flushed, and breathless amidst the throng of dancers, he knew he could not go.

Seitul followed his gaze. “You love them very deeply, do you not?”

“Yes,” Reed said, and there was no need to lie. “There is no one I love more, and there never will be.”

“Then you are staying?” Seitul asked, but she sounded as though she already knew his answer.

“I...find that I am reluctant to leave their side.”

Seitul nodded, a trifle disappointed. “Then I shall follow your example and remain with my beloveds as well.”

“My beloveds,” Reed murmured to himself, eyes entranced as they followed Ben and Sue’s whirling figures. “Yes.”

* * *

Sue was certain that she had never had such fun dancing in all her life, even if her elegant red evening gown was a tad too tight and her hairdo—which she had spent an hour on—was coming undone thanks to the rapid dance.

Ben held her hands as they danced, his blue eyes shining in the dim candlelight, and at times her waist.

Ben was so tall, and broad, and strong, and he looked so handsome in his tuxedo. There were times when Sue would forget how handsome Ben was, and then she would see that ruggedly handsome smile of his and remember how in love with him she had thought she was once, so long ago.

Sue thought again—as she had the day Reed had first introduced him to her—that he looked like one of the handsome fairy-tale princes she had dreamt of as a little girl, the ones she had hoped would come and take her away from her dull little life.

But it had been Reed. Reed had turned out to be her handsome fairy-tale prince, come to rescue her from a life of drudgery and boredom and introduce her to a life filled with wonders and marvels that she hadn’t even known existed.

Her romance with Reed had truly seemed like something out of a fairy tale, at least at first. A beautiful, rich man, the smartest in all the world, had come to stay at her Aunt Marygay’s boardinghouse for a summer, and he had fallen in love with her at first sight and whisked her away on adventures more wonderful than anything she had ever imagined possible.

Every date he had taken her on had made her feel like Cinderella at the ball, dancing breathlessly with her prince till midnight.

But, unlike Cinderella, Sue hadn’t been warned that there was a clock on the wall, the seconds until the spell ended ticking and ticking away.

Her life without Reed had seemed so ordinary and prosaic, but with him in her life…there was always the sense that something wonderful was waiting for her just around the next corner.

With Reed around, the line separating the fantastic and the real seemed to vanish entirely. She never knew what was going to happen next. An ordinary picnic in the park could turn into an adventure across time and space when Reed was there. Exciting things just seemed to happen around him. He couldn’t seem to help it. It was simply the way he experienced the world, and Sue felt so privileged to be one of the few he allowed to accompany him.

It was thrilling, being with a man like that. More thrilling than anything she had ever known.

If only he truly loved her, she thought wistfully, everything would have been perfect. He was everything she had ever wanted. He was everything she would never have.

Because he wasn’t hers, not really.

Oh, he _did_ love her, she knew that. But it was Ben he was _in_ love with, even if he hadn’t realized it yet.

Sue didn’t know when it was that she had realized that the man she loved so desperately was in love with someone else. She thought it must have happened gradually—slowly taking note of the way he touched Ben so often, the way his eyes lingered, the way he smiled at Ben as though he was the center of Reed’s universe.

The first time she had allowed herself to think it in so many words had been the day Ben had won the championship and given Reed the game ball. She had watched them, out on the field, watched Ben drape his arm around Reed’s shoulders as though Reed belonged to him and not Sue, seen Reed’s arm going around Ben’s slender hips and the way he beamed at Ben.

“Ben and Reed are in love with each other,” she had thought, and her heart had shriveled inside of her.

She was Cinderella, and the clock had struck midnight. Her dress had turned back into rags; her coach into a pumpkin; her doormen into mice. The spell was over, the fantasy dead, and there was no bringing it back. All she was left with in its place was a reality that felt so much crueler, so much harsher, when she measured it against the dreams of love and happiness she had once had.

She had spent the rest of that evening in agony. She couldn’t lose Reed. She loved him more than she had ever thought possible. She had no right to keep him.

But at the end of the evening, Reed had left Ben and his wild victory party and he had come back to her. It was her he had kissed and kissed, her whose bed he had shared, her whose name he had cried out in the dead of night, her he had let fuck him as though, if she made him come hard enough, she could make him hers.

Was that enough for her? To have Reed, her handsome fairy-tale prince, to hold him, to kiss him, even if his heart truly belonged to someone else? Even if she knew that someday, inevitably, he would realize that she wasn’t what he truly wanted and leave her?

She thought at first that it would be. That she would take whatever scraps of love and affection Reed could give her.

And it felt so real. When he gazed deep into her eyes and told her he loved her so completely, she couldn’t help but believe him.

Her beautiful fairy tale would last until she saw him with Ben again, and then she would remember that he wasn’t really hers. Reality would come crashing back down around her, and there was no pain keener.

That was why she had been so uncertain about marrying Reed. She knew that he didn’t truly belong to her. She knew she was simply borrowing him from Ben for a little while, but that someday, Ben would come to claim what was rightfully his.

There were times when she felt guilty, when she thought perhaps she should tell Ben and Reed how they felt about each other. But then she would tell herself that she had no right—that either they did know and were choosing to do nothing for some reason she could not fathom, or they didn’t know and wouldn’t believe her. Either way, it wasn’t her place to interfere.

But her guilt, her fear, her confusion—they were all why, when Namor had burst into her life, she had seriously thought about leaving Reed for him. He was really a prince, and he loved her, truly loved her. The way she wanted Reed to love her.

It had taken her far too long to realize that she would rather have the shadow of Reed’s love than the full, blazing fire of Namor’s. She had learned too late that a love that blazed as hotly as Namor’s could be blinding. She had learned too late that it could burn.

But she knew now, and she was determined to enjoy whatever time she had left with Reed.

This mission concerned her. She was afraid that pretending to be Ben’s husband would lead Reed—poor, sweet, oblivious Reed—to realize at last his true feelings for Ben.

She was going to lose him, lose her handsome fairy-tale prince, very, very soon.

And then the fairy tale would be over, and she would be left all alone. Cinderella without her prince, still in rags and covered in the ashes of her dreams of happiness and true love when she reached the end of the story.

That was what was waiting for her, and Sue wasn’t ready to lose Reed yet. She wanted him to be hers for just a little while longer.

When the dance was over, Ben and Sue returned dutifully to Reed, who was standing at a window and speaking quietly with Seitul.

Reed lit up when he saw them, and would anyone blame Sue if she pretended his joy was all for her?

When Ben hesitantly suggested that he and Reed should dance together next and Reed, startled, agreed, Sue’s heart sank.

As she watched them dance together, saw the way their eyes never left each other, the way their hands lingered with every touch, the way Ben held Reed so close, as though he could not bear to ever let him go, she knew. She knew she was going to lose Reed. She knew.

She slipped away to the restroom, and once she was inside, the door locked behind her, she slid to the floor and wept as quietly as she knew how.

* * *

Reed’s heart was beating wildly as Ben led him out to the dance floor, fingers wrapped tightly around Reed’s as though he was afraid Reed would try to slip away if he loosened his hold.

Reed couldn’t believe that Ben was touching him. Without flinching. He couldn’t remember the last time Ben had done that. Before the rocket crash, he thought.

Ben stopped in the middle of the dance floor, and when he put a hand in the small of Reed’s back, and Reed was barely able to suppress a shiver.

“This dance is easier than it looks,” Ben said. “Just follow along.”

“Ben,” he said. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, we do, Reed,” Ben reminded him. “I can dance with you to stop a war.” He grinned. “That ugly you ain’t, Reed.”

Oh. Ben thought Reed was—of course. Why would Ben think Reed was good-looking?

Reed didn’t know why the knowledge that Ben found him so repulsive bothered him so, and yet it did.

Reed nodded, and when Ben led him off into the dance, Reed did his best to hide the fact that his heart was breaking.

* * *

Ben, Reed, and Sue danced and danced until the early hours of the morning. Ben danced with Sue, then Reed, then Sue again, until he lost count of how many times he had danced with them.

He had dreamt so often of the chance to take them in his arms and hold them close…this was so nearly that for which he had spent so many years yearning.

Ben was certain that he was not hiding his feelings for them particularly well. He knew, he could feel that he was staring a beat too long at their lips, so tantalizingly close to their own, was all too aware that his touches lingered longer than need dictated, and it was so very easy to lose himself in the beauty of their eyes…

Ben feared that he did not have the self-control he needed to pull off this pretense of marriage without making his true feelings for Reed and Sue glaringly obvious.

Then again, Reed...was Reed and Ben was sure he wouldn’t notice unless Ben told him in so many words that he loved him, so he was likely safe there.

But Sue was so quick, so perceptive. Ben was sure she would figure it out, and quickly at that.

How could she fail to notice the way he gazed so longingly at them both, how reluctant he was to let them go when the dance ended, how near he had come to kissing them both?

If she didn’t know already, she would soon.

* * *

It was odd, Sue thought. When she was out on the dance floor, she felt overcome by joy and an urge to dance and dance until her shoes were quite worn through, but the moment she stepped away, she felt as though she were lost in the midst of a black fog.

The dance floor must be enchanted.

The fact that magic was real—she was still struggling to wrap her mind around that, and yet all she had seen the last two years during her time as a member of the Fantastic Four made it impossible to deny it.

If she had known, as a girl, that all she had read about was real—witches, vampires, demons, and werewolves—she wasn’t sure that she ever would have found the courage to leave her house at all.

Of course, according to Reed, they weren’t real at all—magic was a type of science whose rules he had not yet grasped. But he would, he insisted, over and over. Someday, he would.

Sue would laugh and tease him—magic was real, she’d say. Why could he not accept it?

Ben had his theories, of course—that Reed didn’t like the existence of an entire dimension of human experience, of the universe, that he had no control over, no knowledge of, that he could not ever hope to understand.

Sue supposed Ben was right. She knew Reed—he was so accustomed to understanding at a glance what others spent their lives poring over. It must be so unsettling to be, so abruptly, confronted with something that was so far beyond the capacity of his mind to grasp.

But as she spun around the dance floor in Reed’s arms, in Ben’s, in the arms of anyone who would have her, she could not understand his reluctance to accept that magic existed.

If it could spark in her such joy, turn the world around her into such a resoundingly fascinating place, she did not know how she could ever live without it.

* * *

The sky was a pale white, the sun about to rise over the horizon, by the time Reed, Sue, and Ben were shown to their quarters.

Ben found that the boundless energy and elation he’d had as he danced and danced in Reed and Sue’s arms all night had begun to evaporate.

His eyelids felt heavy, his limbs weary. He wanted to flop down on a bed and not awaken again for many long hours.

The servant—tall and regal, with skin redder than the reddest rose—led them down long, winding hallways, all intricately carved from wood, interrupted every now and then with the trunk of a still living tree.

At last the servant came to a halt and pushed the wide doors open, bowing as they gestured for Ben, Reed, and Sue to enter first.

Their room was spacious—the trunk of a giant golden tree filled its center, the furniture arrayed around it. The posts of their immense bed were golden young tree trunks that stretched up far beyond the high wooden roof. Golden leaves fell gently out beyond the billowing white curtains, landing on the small balcony and the intricately-carved balustrade that Reed began examining immediately with great interest.

Ben, however, was much more fixated on the lone bed standing in the midst of the room. Beautiful, of course. But there was only one. “Why’s there only one bed?” he said, unthinkingly.

The servant blinked at him in surprise. “Do you not wish to sleep with your beloveds?”

Sue leaped in immediately. “Of course he does,” she said hastily. “But on our planet it’s customary for there to be, um, a, well, we call them day beds. For us to sleep in. During the day.”

“Ah,” the servant said, seemingly placated. “I shall arrange to have one brought to you in the morning, if that is acceptable.”

“Yes,” Sue said quickly. “That will do.”

The servant bowed deeply. “I am called Rayshal. I shall serve you throughout your service here. If you need me, you need only say my name, and I shall know it.”

Sue smiled warmly. “We all thank you greatly, Rayshal, for all you have done for us.”

Rayshal thanked Sue and exited quickly.

Ben waited until Rayshal waited until left through the tall golden doors before he said, “Guess this means I’m sleeping on the floor for the night, don’t it?”

That was enough to distract Reed’s attention away from the balcony. A look of horror crossed his face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ben. The bed is large enough for the three of us.”

Ben blanched. Share a bed with Reed and Sue? No. No. Ben could not do that.

Ben refused to do that.

“I dunno,” Ben said, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. “Think I might just stick to the floor.”

Reed went very quiet and strange—was that sadness that Ben saw in the depths of his eyes?—and then he said, “Why don’t you and Sue take the bed? I’ll be comfortable on the floor.”

Sue and Ben sleep together? No. No. That was not a solution. Ben could not fathom why Reed would even suggest it, but that was nothing new. No matter how long or how well Ben knew Reed, he was well aware of the fact that he would never be able to grasp Reed’s thought processes fully.

“No,” Ben said. “You and Suzie are the ones who are dating. You two should take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

Sue started to remove her earring with far more aggression than it really necessitated. “Oh, god’s sake, Ben!” she snapped. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m exhausted. Why don’t we all sleep in the bed tonight and we can argue about it tomorrow? After we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”

Reed said nothing at first, but then he turned to Ben. “Do you think you could bear it for one night, old friend?”

Ben took in the inscrutable sadness in the depths of Reed’s eyes, eyes that seemed unable to meet Ben’s and Ben…found himself saying yes.

“But just for tonight.”

Ben didn’t quite know where to look when Reed began stripping out of his tuxedo jacket and tugging at his bowtie, or when Sue began pulling at the zipper to her dress as though his presence while they undressed was entirely normal.

Ben was aware of the fact that he was watching Reed’s bare back far too hungrily, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to tear his eyes away. Reed was slender—as he had been since Ben first met him—but his shoulders seemed to have broadened, his waist appealingly narrow, and there were muscles now where before there had been none.

It was the dip of Reed’s spine that caught Ben’s interest the most and the intoxicating whirl of desire and hunger and need to which it gave rise. Ben dreamed of pressing slow, tender kisses down Reed’s spine, of listening to him gasp and sigh, of digging his teeth into Reed’s soft skin and the way it would make Reed moan Ben’s name…and that, perhaps, was why it took him so long to realize that Sue had gone very still. She was, he realized far too late, watching Ben with an unsettling intensity.

Ben felt his face grow hot and let his eyes drop shamefully to the ground. He turned around, but he could still feel Sue’s eyes boring into the back of his skull.

She knew. He knew now, with absolute certainty, that she knew.

He had no idea what to do about it.

* * *

Sue curled possessively around Reed, who lay in the center of the bed, and kept her eyes fixed on Ben’s broad back until she could no longer keep her eyes open, and she slept.

* * *

Reed awoke to the sounds of the sweetest singing he had ever heard, drifting in on the night wind.

He arose from his bed and walked toward the window, spellbound. Ben and Sue did not awaken. They did not, bafflingly, seem even to hear the music.

When Reed reached the window, he saw Seitul awaiting below astride a great crimson dragon.

Her hair hung in loose curls round her face, her dress was green and airy, her feet bare. She seemed far more natural and at ease than she had in the formal dress she had worn to the reception.

“Will you join me at the revel tonight?” Seitul asked, voice strong and clear in the moonlight.

Reed glanced back at Ben and Sue. He was tempted...he was sorely tempted. It would be an adventure, the like of which no human had ever experienced. He would be the first human to ever attend a Zyndarian revel. How could Reed resist?

He looked back at the warm bed that awaited him, saw the strong, lovely lines of Ben’s face, the soft swell of Sue’s breast beneath her nightgown, and he knew he could not leave them.

“Not tonight,” he told Seitul. “But I thank you for your offer.”

She inclined her head to signal that she accepted his decision. “Twice more shall I ask, and then I shall not ask again.”

She turned her dragon and they flew off into the moonlight, her hair streaming behind her.

Reed lingered by the window and watched until she vanished into the depths of the woods.

* * *

Reed awoke, as he did most mornings, slowly. Awareness of his surroundings trickled in, piece by piece.

Strong arms held him, skin rough, and calloused hands were pressed against his bare chest. Hot breath washed over his neck, making him shiver, his skin prickle. A coarse, stubbly cheek rested against the nape of his neck. The comforting and familiar scents of musky aftershave, cigars, and sweat enveloped him.

Reed felt drowsy, warm, serene, content…and then the body behind him shifted, and he felt, pressing against him, the clear outline of a hardening cock. Reed made a soft, pleased noise and pressed back against it.

It made his mouth water—he ached to be rolled over and pressed into the mattress by the heavy weight of the man who was holding him, to be pinned down roughly, to clutch at the sheet and moan as it thrust into him ruthlessly, as it fucked him the way Sue sometimes would when she wanted to remind him that he belonged to her and no one else.

Sue. He belonged to Sue.

Whoever was holding him was _not_ Sue.

Reed lurched into consciousness in a blur of panic and confusion and wrested himself away from whoever held him. He found himself gaping down into Ben’s bewildered blue eyes, Ben, who seemed not to understand why Reed had leapt out of his grasp so suddenly.

“Oh,” Reed said, relieved, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He kept his voice low, all too aware of the fact that Sue was still slumbering away next to him. “Ben. It’s just you.”

He wasn’t sure who he’d thought it had been. Had he known it was Ben who was holding him? Was that why he’d wanted—

Reed cut off that train of thought instantly. No. He wasn’t even going to allow himself to consider such possibilities. Nothing good could come of that.

Ben rifled a hand through his short brown hair. He seemed hardly embarrassed if he was at all, and yet he rapidly dropped his gaze away from Reed’s. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Musta rolled over in my sleep. Used to sleepin’ alone. Or, y’ know, with people who don’t mind it when I hold ‘em. Which is why I wanted my own bed.”

Ben’s tone was mildly accusatory.

Reed held back a frustrated sigh. Yes. He knew that this, like everything else that ever went wrong in their lives, was, ultimately, his fault. For not anticipating it, not preventing it, not doing something sooner to address it. One way or another, it was always because of him.

“I’m sorry,” Reed said quietly. He knew that Ben disliked touching him. It was unfair to put Ben in a position where that was likely to happen. “We’ll make sure we get you that day bed by tonight, Ben, and then you won’t have to—” Reed caught himself. “Then you’ll have your own place to sleep.”

Ben said nothing for a while, seemingly too fascinated by the barely perceptible patterns in the white sheets, and when he did speak, it was only to utter a terse, “Yeah.”

Reed opened his mouth to ask if anything else was wrong, but he was interrupted by the doors to their quarters opening so quietly he nearly didn’t notice.

Rayshul entered, and she was followed by several servants, each bearing with them trays covered with food that smelled so delicious it made Reed’s stomach grumble, a low table, and three chairs.

“Ah!” Rayshul said when she noticed Ben and Reed watching her. “You are awake!” She bowed deeply and gestured toward the table. “Your breakfast is served, my lords.”

Sue groaned and flipped over onto her back. “Do I smell food?” she said.

“Yeah, you do,” Ben said. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Dibs on the stuff that looks like sausages.”

“Yes, my lady,” Rayshul said. “I did not know which delicacies you preferred, so I ordered the kitchens to arrange a more varied repast. If you would like to request more specific meals in the future, you need only ask.”

Reed inclined his head. “We thank you for your service.”

Rayshul bowed once more and swiftly departed.

Ben had already served himself a heaping plate of food by the time Reed and Sue joined him.

They ate silently, ravenously, as they filled their empty bellies.

* * *

The rest of that afternoon was spent caught in the midst of negotiations for the peace treaty.

Sue had known these sorts of negotiations could be tricky, but she had not grasped precisely how difficult until she had been subjected to two full hours of baseless recriminations, accusations, and no less than seven separate attempts by the delegates to curse each other for all eternity.

They loathed each other. Deeply. Endless decades of war and death had led to bitter, entrenched hatred on all sides.

By the time she was there for three hours, the negotiations had devolved into a screaming match.

It didn’t help that her head was throbbing—she had slept badly, and it certainly hadn’t helped when she awoke for the tenth time only to discover that Reed had rolled out of her arms and over to Ben’s side of the bed and was holding him in a way Sue could only describe as tender.

She had gently pushed them apart with her forcefield—so gently that neither had awoken—and draped herself over Reed.

Neither did she miss the way that Ben, shifted into the Thing, now remained at Reed’s side so protectively.

* * *

“Well, that was pointless,” Ben said when they returned back to their quarters in the early hours of the morning, after negotiations had concluded.

Ben was right, Reed knew. They had accomplished nothing. Less than nothing.

Even Sue, with all her immense power, had hardly managed to prevent twelve swirling, colorful curses from finding their mark. The delegates had lunged at each other across the table, daggers in hand, over slights both real and imagined.

Reed made no less than three impassioned speeches to inspire the delegates. None of them paid him any heed.

Sue threw herself, face down and defeated, on the opposite side of the bed. “There’s no way we can do this,” she complained, voice muffled by the mattress. “They hate each other too much, Reed.”

Reed couldn’t say that he didn’t agree, but he wasn’t ready to give up so easily. He was the leader of the team for a reason. He positioned himself at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips, in a heroic pose. “We may have lost the battle today,” he said decisively, “but we have not lost the war. And we aren’t going to. We’re the Fantastic Four. We never lose.”

Ben lay down on the bed, head pillowed nonchalantly on his folded arms. “I seem to remember beating you at poker a couple of times,” he said. “A lot of times. You suck at poker, Reed.”

“That,” Reed snapped, “is beside the point, Benjamin, and you know it.”

Ben gasped in mock horror. “Full name. Ooo, I must be in trouble.”

Ben’s eyes twinkled at Reed—he was giving Reed a hard time for no reason. That was all. Reed knew him too well to be taken in by his jokes.

He scowled back at him.

Sue flipped over onto her back and blew a lock of blonde hair away from her face. “Johnny isn’t here. Technically we’re more—“ She waved her hand in the air indecisively. “—the Terrific Trio?”

“Ew,” Ben said, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Don’t call us that.”

Sue grinned over at him. “The Tremendous Trio?”

“No,” Ben said.

“Fabulous Three?”

“Worse.”

“Well, we definitely are _very_ fabulous.”

“Regardless of whether Johnny is here or not,” Reed said loudly from behind the hand he had pressed to his face somewhere around the time the words “Terrific Trio” had left Sue’s lips, “we are still the Fantastic Four. And we do not lose. Particularly when there is so much at stake.”

“Oh, man,” Ben complained, accompanied by a irritable roll of his eyes. “Here he goes. Inspirational speech time.”

“Do you think he’s going to go with ‘There is nothing we cannot do as long as we’re together’ or ‘Never say die’?” Sue said.

“I do _not_ sound like that,” Reed snapped.

“Yes, you do,” Ben said. “It was like I was listening to you talk. But better ‘cause Suzie’s prettier.”

Reed scowled at Ben. “That is not true.” Realizing his words could be misconstrued, he rapidly amended that to, “The first part, not the last. Of course you’re prettier than me, my darling.”

“Ain’t he cute when he gets all squirmy?” Ben smirked.

“You _are_ very pretty, darling,” Sue said to Reed. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently.” Reed was sure he was blushing. To Ben, Sue said, a wicked gleam in her eye, “Babe, if you think he’s cute like this, you should see how cute he is when he’s squirmy and naked.”

Reed had no idea why she was bringing this up.

Ben seemed to register, much too late, the strange expression on Sue’s face. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he replied carefully.

Sue frowned. “You’ve never seen him naked? You shared a room with him for four years but you never saw him naked?”

“No!” Ben said. “Course I didn’t. Reed didn’t go prancin’ around naked when we were roomies and neither did I.”

“No,” Reed agreed. “We did not. We had a sense of decorum, of dignity, even when we were young.”

"Oh, stuff it, Reed," Ben said. "I've seen you so drunk you fell into a lake."

"I did not," Reed said, dignified. "I still maintain I was pushed."

"By Victor," Ben sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “You still on that? It’s been eight years, Reed.”

“Yes, I am still on that. An injustice was perpetrated that night. The first of many. I am saying that it was definitely Victor.”

"Victor never went to those football victory parties and you know it, buddy,” Ben said.

He and Reed had had this argument many times over the past eight years. With an astonishing regularity, as a matter of fact. Neither Ben nor Reed were ever willing to concede to the other.

Reed was not about to give in now. “He must have heard I was going and he—”

"Was upset you didn't ask him to be your date?"

"Victor did  _not_  have a crush on me, Ben, no matter how often you insist he did.”

"I'm just sayin', it would explain why he's so obsessed with you. Those little sweaters you wore when we were in college were pretty cute. I mean, I’d get it if he liked you.”

"He is not obsessed with me, he does not think my sweaters are cute, he wants to kill me. It isn’t the same.“

"Who doesn't want to kill you a little bit? In fact, I wanna kill you right now.”

“You do not, Ben.”

“I do a little bit,” Ben confessed. “Dragging us here was your idea. And now we’re stuck here and we got no way to fix this.” He sighed and let his head fall back against his pillow defeatedly. “I could be at home with a good stogie, drinking beer and watching football.”

“I will come up with a plan,” Reed decided. “By tomorrow. That will fix everything.”

Sue raised a very skeptical eyebrow. “You. Are going to come up with a way to manipulate people into doing what you want. You.”

Reed tilted his chin up stubbornly. “Yes.”

“Darling, manipulating people into doing what we want is more my specialty,” Sue reminded him. “I’m the devious one, not you. You don’t have a devious bone in your body.” She smiled wickedly. “I should know. I’ve checked.”

“Do you even have bones?” Ben frowned up at the ceiling. “Do they stretch when you stretch?”

“What?” Reed said, thrown. “Yes, I have bones. Ben, have you spent the last two years thinking I don’t have bones?”

Ben shrugged. “Can’t say I ever thought about your bones all that much.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Sue muttered under her breath.

Ben’s face turned crimson but for once he seemed to have no withering riposte to sling back at her.

Reed had no idea what they were going on about, so he simply refused to engage. He did that far more often than he cared to admit. There were many nuances in the interactions between Ben and Sue that were lost on Reed. “Sue, if you think you can arrive at a better plan, please, be my guest.”

Sue sighed. “Reed, my darling, can you just admit that we are all out of our depth here? Magic isn’t something we know much about, and an entire society that is organized around the use of magic is…we don’t even understand the rules of how everything works here.”

“That,” Reed countered, “merely requires research and observation. Despite the fact that I have not yet engaged in an in-depth study of magic, that does not mean that I am incapable of it.”

“Aw, come on, Reed, you suck at magic and we all know it,” Ben said. “Don’t even pretend.”

Reed did. He knew he did. “Perhaps I do,” he admitted. “But nothing is insurmountable as long as we put our minds to it.”

Sue narrowed her eyes at Reed. “How are you this…annoyingly bright and chipper after such a long, miserable day?”

“I am accustomed to functioning on a small amount of sleep, Sue,” Reed reminded her. “And with so much at stake I will continue doing so.”

Sue flipped onto her side. “You do what you want, darling. Just do it silently. I want to sleep.”

Reed thought it over. Perhaps it would be better to wait until tomorrow, when all of their minds were clear and well-rested, to strategize. “All right,” he said. “We’ll come up with a plan tomorrow.”

“Right,” Ben said, and settled down into the bed, eyes closed.

Was he…planning on sharing the bed with Reed and Sue once more? Reed didn’t…didn’t think that was a good plan. He had felt Ben’s touch, as though it had been branded on his skin, the rest of the day. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how good it had felt, having Ben’s strong arms around him, how much he wanted it to happen once more.

He didn’t understand why he was so fixated on it, and that frightened him.

Reed didn’t move. “Ben,” he said. “Weren’t you going to sleep on the day bed?”

Ben glanced over at it, considering. “I’m cozy here,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Reed said. “Right.”

Ben seemed to notice that Reed was less than enthusiastic. “That okay, Stretch?”

Reed couldn’t say it wasn’t, not without admitting why. “Yes,” he said hastily. “Of course, old friend. Anything you need.”

Ben examined Reed silently for a moment, as though he were searching for something, and then said, “Mmm-hmm” as though he didn’t quite believe him.

* * *

Ben was careful to keep his distance during the night. Reed, he thought, had been uncomfortable, waking up in Ben’s arms, and Ben was eager to ensure that he not be put in that position again.

He feared too that Reed might start to question why Ben always seemed instinctively to hold Reed during the night if it happened too often.

Perhaps that was why he was so surprised when he awakened the following morning to discover that it was not he who had shifted in the night and wrapped himself around Reed.

No, it was Reed whose body was coiled around Ben’s like a snake, his head pillowed on Ben’s chest. Ben was holding Reed, of course, because Reed was laying on top of him. It wasn’t his fault.

Ben was considering whether or not he should move before Reed awoke when Reed rendered any deliberation pointless.

Reed stirred, and yawned, and his hands began to feel along Ben’s broad shoulders, until he seemed to realize that they were far too broad to be Sue’s, and then he lifted his head.

Ben mustered up his broadest grin and said, “Morning, sunshine. You comfy?”

Reed gasped and drew back, face a bright, blossoming shade of red. “I—“ he stammered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I—“

He cleared his throat awkwardly and didn’t seem to know what else to say. He sat there, shame-faced, and waiting for Ben to say something.

“Don’t worry about it, Stretch,” Ben said. “It’s…not a big deal.”

“Yes,” Reed said. “Of course.”

Reed moved away at that, stretched over Ben and off the bed silently.

Ben watched him—the nicely broad shoulders, the slender waist, the ripple of muscle beneath soft skin that had been in his arms a few moments ago…

Ben couldn’t help but wonder. That was twice Reed had wound up in his arms during the night. Twice in two nights.

Reed could easily have wrapped himself around Sue in the night, and yet it had been Ben to whom he had found his way.

Did it mean something? Was Ben reading too much into something that was truly meaningless?

Ben didn’t know. But for the first time since Reed had met Sue, Ben allowed himself the smallest glimmer of hope that perhaps Reed felt for Ben something resembling what Ben felt for him.

* * *

Reed hit on the absolutely stellar idea of asking the princesses for help the next morning…with some gentle prodding from Sue, of course, who had known even the night before that it was the clear solution. She had also known that the moment she mentioned it to him, he would have dragged them both right to the princesses’ chambers and, well, she had been exhausted.

Reed hadn’t been the one maintaining individual forcefields around all of the delegates to ensure that no one lobbed a curse at one of them. That took quite a lot out of Sue—she had even caught her nose bleeding twice, not that she’d mentioned it to Reed.

She certainly had no intention of doing so. She knew how he’d worry. But she also knew perfectly well that she couldn’t maintain twelve separate forcefields for several days, if not weeks.

That sounded exhausting.

No, no, asking the princesses for help and advice was doubtlessly the right solution.

Ben, Reed, and Sue found the princesses out in the flower gardens that surrounded the palace.

Seitul and Weyul were playfully sword fighting, while Teinpal lay upon a blanket nearby and watched them with an appreciative smile on her face. They were surrounded by guards, but Teinpal waved them through the moment she saw them. She rose to her feet and went to greet them.

“Should you not be at the negotiations?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Sue said smoothly. “But yesterday…didn’t go very well, and we were hoping we could ask you a few questions. Since no one has bothered to tell us yet what exactly is going on.”

“But we gave orders that—“

“Yes,” Sue said. “The problem was, every time one of your delegates began telling the story, the others would call them a liar and fights would break out. We are very lucky no one is dead.”

“Or cursed,” Ben added. “There were an awful lotta curses bein’ thrown around there yesterday.”

Teinpal sighed miserably. “I should have expected that. Of course our delegates cannot even agree on a story.”

“Yes,” Reed said. “The situation is rather dire, and we’d like some light shed on it, if possible.”

“Yes, yes,” Teinpal said. “Come sit. Eat with us.”

Seitul and Weyul’s merry dance with the blades ceased the moment they noticed Ben, Reed, and Sue had joined them.

“Is something the matter?” they asked.

“Fighting,” Teinpal said. “They want us to tell them the story of how the war began.”

“Ah,” Seitul said. “You wish to hear about the White Queen.”

“The who?” Sue said.

“The White Queen,” Weyul said. “She it was who began this war, many long years ago. She is ancient, and very, very powerful.”

“And malignant,” Seitul said harshly. “She has claimed the lives of many of our people.”

“Then why are you fighting each other?” Sue asked. She couldn’t understand. “If she’s your enemy, shouldn’t you band together and fight her?”

“It is much more complicated than that,” Seitul sighed.

She explained, briefly, that many long decades ago, before Seitul and the other princesses were born, their people traveled throughout the universe through a series of magical portals. They spread throughout the heavens—at first, randomly. To explore, find new homes, make magical deals with the locals, recruit servants, party, and, sometimes, feed and kill. They were known by many names throughout the universe—and here she rattled off a list of names that Sue had never heard before, until she said, “Fae.”

“Wait!” Sue interrupted. “The Fae? You were called the Fae?”

“Yes,” Seitul shrugged. “On one planet. I believe they also called us ‘The Fair Folk.’”

“Fairies, to others,” Teinpal said.

“Elves, to some,” Weyul added.

“You,” Sue said, stunned, “ _you_ are The Fae? You’re real? I thought you were just stories.”

“Oh,” Seitul said. “So you are from _that_ planet. Yes, we have visited you before, long ago, before the war. I thought perhaps we had. When I was young, some of you mortals lived with us for a time. Your species looked familiar.”

“What happened to them?” Reed asked. “The…mortals. Who lived with you.”

“Some perished in the war,” Seitul said indifferently. “Others simply grew old and died, as your kind do all too quickly.”

“That was why she was so angry,” said Weyul sadly. “She did not like that our kind mixed with yours. Or others. She believed that our kind was becoming polluted. So she conquered Yaor, the planet upon which the Celestial Palace, which held our gateways, was located. And she forbade any of our kind from ever visiting it. And defended it with foul beasts of air and earth and water so that none of us could hope to reach it, even with all our armies at our beck and call.”

“We were forced to turn to other forms of interstellar travel,” said Teinpal. “That is why we began turning to science, and why we began growing our own spaceships.”

“But it is not the same,” Seitul said miserably. “Once we could walk from one world to the next as easily as you would walk from one room to another. Now we are trapped here.”

“Or it takes us many weary months to reach a new planet, and our kind does not fare well in the cold void of space. We require sunlight, and trees, and laughter,” Weyul said sadly.

“My world is mostly aquatic,” Teinpal explained. “We were more what you would call…sirens? Mermaids? Selkies? We walk on land, but we must return periodically to the water. Life in space is difficult for us.”

“Well,” Sue said, “this still doesn’t explain how the war between all of you began.”

“She told us that whichever of us conquered the other two,” Seitul said, “would be granted access to the Celestial Palace.”

“Do you think she was serious?” Sue asked. “Do you really believe she would follow through?”

“Our kind cannot lie,” Seitul said. “And so our mothers believed she intended to keep her offer. And so they fought a war. And many died. Are dying still.”

“Space travel is…inconvenient,” Weyul said. “The gateways in the Celestial Palace are far preferable. They ease and speed our interactions with other worlds. But avoiding it is not worth the lives of our people. We will have no more of war.”

“It seems to me,” said Reed, who had seemed lost in thought throughout the princesses’ tale, “that if we defeated the White Queen or at the very least regained access to the Celestial Palace, we could easily end the war. There would be no need to fight. There would be no need for a peace treaty.” He turned to Ben and Sue and said, with that sureness that Sue had always found so appealing. “We are going to Yaor.”

“You’re telling me that you want to walk into the home of a very ancient, very powerful, malignant witch-queen with no plan other than ‘take Celestial Palace away from her,’” Sue said dryly.

Reed shrugged as though he wasn’t entirely certain what Sue was implying. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Sue thought it over. It was certainly no more inadvisable than walking into one of Victor’s traps with no plan. Surely the White Queen could not be more formidable than Victor, who they had, the three of them, beaten so often. “No. Not really. Just checking.”

“Well, I have a problem!” Ben said, scowling. “And a question. Do I get to clobber anyone? I haven’t clobbered anyone in a week and I’m afraid I’m gettin’ rusty. I get to clobber someone or I don’t go.”

“This is—inadvisable. You cannot _possibly_ hope to defeat the White Queen and her minions,” Seitul said. “This plan is—you cannot defeat her. She is the most powerful sorceress our people have ever produced. Do any of you even know any magic?”

“No,” Reed said cockily. “That’s never stopped us before. We’ll find a way to win.”

“We always do,” Sue said. “We can take this Queen. I’ll take her by myself. And then we’ll end this war.”

“You have no idea what you are getting yourselves into,” Seitul said fiercely. “Do not do this. I am begging you. You will not return from the Celestial Palace. Whole armies have broken against her forces like water against a rock. We have attempted to retake it and failed before her endless wrath. Her unimaginable power. The monsters at her beck and call.”

Sue squeezed Seitul’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us, your highness. We’re more formidable than any army. We’ve defeated whole armies by ourselves, as a matter of fact. And more than a few monsters. We can do this. Have faith in us.”

“I am certain that you believe that,” said Seitul. “I am also certain that you have no idea what you are getting into.”

“Well,” Ben sniffed, “won’t be any different than any other day of the week.”

Seitul shook her head. “Mortals,” she muttered beneath her breath before she straightened up and declared, “You are not going to do this. I, Seitul, heir to the throne of Zyndar, forbid it. I will not allow you to foolishly walk to your deaths.”

“I don’t think we would die,” Reed said in his most reasonable voice. “We’ve done this sort of thing before, you know. You could even say that it’s what we do.”

“The White Queen is our problem to deal with,” Seitul said. “My brides and I, we will defeat her. It is something _we_ must do to bring our kingdoms together. You are forbidden.”

Reed was about to continue protesting until Sue put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Reed. She’s right. This is her planet. If she says no, the answer’s no.”

Reed looked disappointed, but he acquiesced.

* * *

The next few weeks were exhausting. Reed made no less than twenty-three impassioned speeches to inspire the delegates. None of them paid him any heed.

It was exhausting. They would spend all day in the great hall of Zyndar, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep.

Ben kept falling asleep in Reed and Sue's bed. At first, he'd apologize as though it'd been an accident, but eventually, he slept there every night and no one protested. The best nights were the ones when Ben would awaken to find that Reed had drifted over to him in his sleep. It didn't happen every night. Some mornings it would be Sue he was wrapped around.

But it happened often enough that Ben couldn't stay away. 

* * *

Slowly, surely, Ben, Reed, and Sue together were able to gain some ground in the negotiations—a concession here, a compromise there. The peace treaty was far from complete, but there was some slow, tortuous progress.

Twenty days did Ben, Reed, and Sue spend tirelessly working toward peace and a just resolution.

On the twenty-first, they were finally given a chance to rest. A sacred Zyndarian festival, Princess Seitul told Reed, held to honor the first day of summer. There would be dancing in the woods, and vendors would come from near and far to the forest surrounding the palace.

Reed suggested he, Sue, and Ben should take the opportunity to get out of the palace for the first time in three weeks. See some of the world they were trying to save.

Ben and Sue both enthusiastically agreed, and that was how they all three of them found themselves wandering through the small fair that had been set up near the forest with the three princesses, disguised as commoners, by their side.

The shops were filled with wondrous works of art and craftsmanship, unlike anything Ben, Reed, and Sue had ever seen.

Ben was overjoyed at the chance to escape the narrow confines of the palace that had begun to feel stifling.

He shut his eyes and breathed deep of the sweet Zyndarian air and reveled in the feeling of the cool breeze that was rifling through his hair like a caress. He was going to miss this when he returned to Earth and the air that was filled with smog and pollution and…he was going to miss this.

His days on Zyndar were much the same every day—he would awaken in a bed he shared with Reed and Sue. Some mornings, he would discover Reed or Sue had made their way into his arms, and he would be delighted. Some mornings, they would be curled around each other, and he would marvel quietly at their beauty, and feel great sadness that he could not partake in the joy they found in each other.

Then it would be off to the Hall of Peace, the Zyndarians called it, which had been specially constructed for the negotiations, and a whole day full of petty, bickering, feuding aristocrats. It was a constant struggle, not punching them all in the face every time they opened their mouths. Ben was certain that Sue and Reed did not realize exactly how much of a triumph it was for him, every day he managed to get through without punching the delegates in their smug faces.

They were far more haughty and unpleasant than anyone he had ever encountered on Earth, save perhaps for Victor Von Doom.

Ben was sure that they would get along if they ever met. Either that or they would instantly loathe each other and murder each other in a fit of pique.

Ben didn’t think he’d mind that.

Ben trailed behind Reed and Sue as they wandered, delighted, through the marketplace, their arms around each other’s waists, and he would smirk every time Sue would casually slip her hand down to cup Reed’s ass.

Reed hardly seemed to notice, but then again, perhaps he did and Ben failed to notice because his attention was fixed elsewhere.

His eyes were, in fact, fixed firmly and appreciatively on the generous curves of Reed’s ass when he heard Seitul say, “Why are you always separate?”

“What?” Ben said, reluctantly tearing his eyes away. “Whaddya mean separate?”

Seitul gestured toward Reed and Sue with a glance. “They hold each other. You do not. I have noticed this on many occasions. Why are you always separate?”

Ben panicked for a moment, afraid that he and Sue and Reed had been found out at last. He groped about for a believable response. “Guess I just ain’t that touchy-feely,” he settled on at last.

Seitul raised her eyebrows with a fair amount of skepticism. “They are your beloveds. How can you not desire to touch them?” she said. “I do not understand. If I had my way, I would never let mine go.”

“You’re not touching them now,” Ben pointed out.

Seitul gave him a rather annoyed look. “Because I wished to speak with you, Ben Grimm, in private. You have not answered my question. If I did not know for a fact that the three of you sleep in the same bed every night, I might begin to be suspicious of your marriage.”

Ben refused to allow himself to panic. “How do you know we sleep in the same bed every night?” he asked.

“What my servants know, I know,” she said, as though it were obvious. “They do think it odd that you seem to be so chaste, and I must admit…I do also. There is something strange about your marriage, Ben Grimm, and I will discover what it is.”

“There’s nothin’ strange about it,” Ben countered. “We’ve just been tired with all the negotiatin’ and haven’t wanted ta canoodle, and it’s our business anyway, your highness, so keep outta our marriage bed.”

Seitul’s lips curved into a wry smile, as though she was in on some joke that Ben was not. “There is no privacy in the court of the High Queen, Ben Grimm. That is a lesson that I have learned that far too well.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben snapped. “That ain’t how we do things. It ain’t—American!”

Seitul snorted. “This is not America. It is Zyndar. And you are in the High Court of the Zyndarians. You would do well to take care, Ben Grimm. There are many who wish us harm. If your marriage were ever put into question, I do not need to remind you that the results would be disastrous.”

Fear gripped Ben’s heart. “Here?” he said. “There are people who wish us harm here? Are you tryin’ to warn me? Are we in danger? Reed and Sue, are they safe?”

Seitul’s eyes found her betrotheds in the crowd. “We are always in danger. Nowhere are we safe from her,” she said in a half whisper. "The White Queen walks where she will."

Ben did not hesitate. He sped to Reed and Sue’s side, put his arms protectively around their shoulders, and in hushed whispers told them all that Seitul had said.

Reed grew somber. “Perhaps we should return to the palace,” he said. “I don’t want either of you getting hurt because I wanted to study Zyndarian customs.”

“No,” Sue said instantly. “I will not allow myself to be ruled by fear. We’ll stay here. We’ll be careful, and stay together, but we’ll stay here.”

“I dunno,” Ben cautioned. “Seitul seemed…it seemed like she thought we were in danger. I think we should go back.”

Keeping Reed and Sue safe. Nothing mattered more to him than that.

“Reed,” Sue said firmly. “You two can go back if you want, but I am staying here. I will not let their White Queen frighten me into anything. I can take anything she throws at me.”

“Magic,” Reed said. “We understand so little about it.”

“If we can beat Victor,” Sue said, her voice as cold and hard as iron, “we can take this White Queen. Let her come. Let her see how she fares against the three of us together. She’ll break on us like a wave on a rock. I will break her, and I will end this war.”

Reed did not seem to share Sue’s confidence, but he conceded. “All right,” he said. “But we stay together.”

Ben’s hold tightened around their shoulders. “Right,” he said. “I ain’t lettin’ either of you out of my sight. Or my arms.”

Sue put her arm around Ben’s waist. “Good idea,” she said. “Let’s not let go of each other.”

* * *

So they intended, but intentions do not always translate into reality.

Ben kept his arms around Reed and Sue’s shoulders as though he feared that if he let them go he would lose them forever.

But Reed, as was his wont, saw something that piqued his curiosity, and he wandered off.

Ben and Sue, watching two performers dance intricately in the midst of a great square with delight and wonder, did not notice.

Reed was approached by a young woman, her hair long and blonde and curling over the gentle swell of her breasts, a golden basket full of golden fruits hanging from her arms.

“Would you like one?” she said, her smile sweet and pink. Her eyes were blue. Her skin was pale. Her face reminded him of someone’s, but he couldn’t think of whose.

“What do I have to give you in return?” Reed asked cautiously.

He had been warned. Nothing is given for nothing.

The girl plucked a fruit from her basket and held it out to him. “A kiss,” she said. “One kiss, and it is yours.”

Reed thought it over. “I kiss you,” he said, “and you give me the fruit?”

The girl’s smile widened. “I did not say you had to kiss me.”

Reed did not understand. “Then who do I have to kiss?”

She took his hand and gently placed the fruit in his palm. “Take a bite, and you will soon know.”

Reed looked at the fruit in his palm. It shone and flickered in the afternoon sun as though it was a golden star. The smell filled his nostrils, sweet and mouth-watering.

He had never wanted anything more.

He took a bite.

* * *

Sue saw him fall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fall.

Down, down, down to the ground he tumbled, and with him her heart.

“Reed!” she screamed, as though her heart had been torn from her chest, because it had been. Because a world without him did not merit thinking about. Because he was her world, and without him there was nothing, nothing but darkness and despair and misery.

She ran, ran to his side, fell to her knees, and took him into her arms. “What did you do to him?!” she hollered at the blonde girl who stood over him, and then she recoiled in horror.

She was looking up into her own face. A nose that was shaped like hers. Hair as gold. Eyes as blue.

But her smile had never been so cruel.

The woman threw her head back and laughed, if a laugh it could be called.

Laughs are warm, laughs are a joy that cannot be contained bubbling up to the surface, dancing free into the air.

This chilled Sue to the bone. The woman’s laugh was colder than the icy void of space.

A swirl of black smoke enveloped her, and when it faded, a woman stood there. Hair as pale and spindly as a spider’s web, skin the sickly, cloying white of a dying orchid.

“He will never truly be yours,” she said, in a voice so cruel that it sent shivers up Sue’s spine.

And then she vanished.

* * *

Ben carried Reed back to the palace himself. Neither Ben nor Sue would allow anyone else to touch him. They trusted no one.

Sue had been a fool. She had thought she could protect Reed, her handsome fairy tale prince. She had thought she was a gallant knight who could keep her love safe.

Instead she had simply gaped, horrified, at the villain.

Instead, she had stood by, unaware, while her love was hurt. Possibly killed. She didn’t know. She didn’t know why Reed wouldn’t wake up.

He was breathing, his chest rising and falling, his cheeks still pink with life.

But he wouldn’t open his eyes when she called his name, and he was hers, and he always answered when she called.

It took half an hour, but the princesses at last convinced Ben and Sue to allow Reed to be examined by their experts.

Sue and Ben, however, refused to allow Reed out of their sight. The White Queen could return, at any moment.

Now they knew that she was after them. How could they allow Reed to leave their sight?

How had they ever?

Sue thought, as the royal physician examined Reed, that Reed was precious. So precious. How had she allowed this to happen? Reed needed to be protected and cared for—she and Ben both knew that. Reed was sweet and kind and trusting. He couldn’t protect himself. That was what Sue and Ben were for.

And when he had needed them, they had not been there. They had been watching some silly dancers in a square while Reed was falling and possibly dying—and…if Reed…if he died this way…Sue would never forgive herself.

Already she blamed herself for the rocket crash—she had planned it with Reed, side by side, she had persuaded Ben to join them, she had not done enough to prevent Johnny from accompanying them, it was her fault, she knew, just as much as it was Reed’s. It was a burden they bore together. A debt they both owed to Ben and Johnny, whose lives they had ruined together.

If Reed was taken from her because again she had been careless…she did not know what she would do.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder and found herself looking up into Ben’s worried face.

“He’ll be all right,” Ben said, voice tight and tense. He collapsed more than sat in the chair next to her. “He’ll pull through this, Suzie. You know him. Nothing can keep him down for long. He’ll be up and annoyin’ us in no time.”

Ben sounded as though he desperately wanted to believe that. Sue was not sure he did. They both knew how tenuous were the threads that kept a heart beating. They both had lost loved ones before.

Too many, Sue thought. Too many.

They shared the same grief now, the same icy terror had hold of their heart: that they would lose the man they loved.

Sue found the thought that she was not alone in her love for Reed, in her grief and misery, strangely comforting.

“Yes,” Sue said, putting her head on Ben’s shoulder, desperately seeking the warmth and comfort he had to give her. “Reed is going to be fine. He’ll wake up, and he’ll ask us why we look so worried, and then he’ll laugh at us for being so silly, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

Ben wove his arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Sue shut her eyes and allowed the warmth of his touch, of his love, wash over her. “Yeah,” he said. “And then he’ll find a—a speck of dust that’s somewhere it doesn’t belong or something, and next thing you know we’ll be fighting vampires in the Microverse.” He laughed, and if it was a bit broken, Sue couldn’t blame him. “You never know what’s going to happen next when he’s around. He’s really something else. Never met anyone like him.”

Sue laughed too, but only because it was the only way to keep from crying. “It’s annoying,” she agreed. “Not being able to plan your day because you never know where you’re going to end up next. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I wouldn’t trade him for—“ Sue couldn’t help it; she started to cry. “Ben,” she sobbed, “I can’t lose him. Not like this.”

Ben pulled her into a fierce hug. His chin dug into her shoulder. “We’re not gonna lose him, Suzie, do you hear me? We’ll do whatever we need to do to save him. I’ll give everything I have to save him. I swear to you, Suzie, I’ll make sure he’s okay. I’ll make sure he’s safe. I’ll bring him back to—to you.”

Sue didn’t know why, but she believed him.

She swallowed her tears. “It’s what we do,” she said bravely. “We keep Reed safe. No matter what it costs us.”

* * *

Sue didn’t know when she said that how very true it was. She didn’t know what it would cost her. She could not fathom the depths of bravery she would be required to dredge up.

She discovered a few hours later.

The physicians approached her and Ben, who still were clinging desperately to each other, as though in each other’s arms would find the strength to continue.

The doctor’s dark red skin was wrinkled and creased with age. Sue found her strangely comforting. The doctor spoke with a wisdom, an authority, that befitted her age. “I know what ails him,” she said to Ben and Sue. “I believe he will be fine.”

Sue and Ben straightened up in eager interest.

“What is it?” Sue said urgently. “How do we cure him?”

“You are his beloveds, are you not?” the doctor said.

Sue wasn’t sure why she was asking. “Yes,” she said impatiently. “Now how do we fix him? What do we need? We’ll go anywhere, do anything we need to do.”

“That is…not necessary,” the doctor said reassuringly. “What ails him is an ancient curse. One I have not seen in many long years. That is why I did not recognize it right away. That is why it took me so long. But I am certain.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ben said. “You’re a genius, doc. Now how do we cure him?”

The doctor seemed a tad annoyed that they were so uninterested in how she had solved his illness. “He consumed cursed fruit. It can only be cured by kisses from those he loves truly and who love him truly in return. But if you are truly his beloveds, you should be able to cure him with a kiss or two.”

“A kiss?” Sue said. “That’s it?”

“True love’s kiss,” the doctor corrected. “Such kisses have ancient and powerful magic of their own. They can break most curses. Certainly this one.”

“Well then,” Sue said, and went to Reed’s side. He was lying on a narrow bed, his FF uniform even more brilliantly blue next to the startling white of the sheets upon which he rested.

Sue didn’t hesitate. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him, grateful that she would soon have him back in her arms where he belonged. She pulled back and waited, certain that his eyes would flutter open and he would smile up at her, eyes warm and full of love, and her heart would skip a beat as it always did when he looked at her like that.

But Reed remained pale, still, and motionless.

Sue’s heart sank. She knew why. She knew it.

She kissed Reed again. Harder this time, as though that could make him wake up, make hers the kiss that was true love.

Nothing.

She kissed him a third time.

Reed did not stir.

She could deny it no longer. Somehow, somewhere within her, she found the strength to say, “Ben. You try.”

She had said she would do anything to save him, and she would. Even admit that it was not her he truly loved.

“What?” Ben stammered. “Suzie, I—“

“Ben,” she said, her heart breaking. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Ben’s protestations ceased. He hesitated for a moment, but it wasn’t long before he walked over to the bed in which Reed was slumbering, leaned over, cast a wary glance at Sue, who was looking determinedly at the wall, and kissed Reed.

Sue thought, at first, for one beautiful moment, that it had not worked, that perhaps it was the diagnosis that was wrong, perhaps Reed did love her, perhaps Reed was still hers.

But then Reed gasped, his eyes fluttered open, and Sue’s heart shriveled and died.

She rose to her feet and left without a word.

* * *

Reed’s head was pounding, everything round him spinning. He gasped for breath.

He turned his head to the right and there he saw Ben sitting at the edge of his bed, eyes following something in the distance, the expression on his face unreadable.

Reed reached out and grabbed Ben’s wrist—real and solid and something to anchor himself to, something to which he could cling.

“Ben,” he said weakly. “What happened? Where am I?”

Ben’s eyes found Reed’s. He smiled comfortingly and twisted his wrist so that he was clutching Reed’s hand in his own. “Hey, hey, you’re fine, buddy,” he said, his eyes kind. “We’re in the palace.”

Reed groaned and shut his eyes against the bright glare. His head was throbbing. “There was…” His throat was dry. “A girl. She gave me…some fruit and I…I don’t remember anything after that.”

“That was no girl, buddy. That was the White Queen. She poisoned you.” Reed felt a stab of panic, and it must have shown on his face, because Ben hurriedly added, “But the doc says you’re gonna be fine.”

Reed felt a wave of relief engulf him. “Thank god for that, at least.” He cast a swift glance about the room and frowned. “Where’s…Sue?”

“She, uh,” Ben said. “Went to talk to the princesses. About finding the White Queen. She said she’d be back. Later.”

Reed felt…disappointed. He had been ill, possibly dying, and Sue hadn’t remained with him? If the situation had been reversed, nothing would ever have torn him from Sue’s side.

“Oh,” Reed said, frowning up at the ceiling. “Yes, of course.”

* * *

Night fell, and still Sue had not returned. Ben managed, with some difficulty, to persuade Reed to return to their bedroom.

Ben watched as Reed’s anxiety over Sue’s all too conspicuous absence deepened, although he tried to hide it behind an endless lecture on the startling medicinal uses of a weed he had discovered growing in the princesses’ garden.

Ben knew that he could say nothing to explain Sue’s absence without saying everything. He still did not quite know how to explain what had happened in a way that wasn’t far more revealing than he thought wise.

Certainly his kiss had led to Reed’s awakening—on the surface, at least, it seemed as though Reed likely returned his feelings. But Ben trusted it not at all.

The White Queen had been behind it. Perhaps the curse she cast on the fruit Reed ate had nothing to do with true love. The doctor had merely been speculating.

Perhaps Reed didn’t return Ben’s feelings. Perhaps he and Sue had misinterpreted everything that had happened. Perhaps Sue was putting herself through this misery for nothing.

Ben could not stop thinking about the look of utter despair he had seen on Sue’s face when Reed had stuttered to life beneath Ben’s lips.

He could not help feeling guilty. He had never wanted to hurt Sue. He loved her deeply. He would swear off Reed forever rather than hurt Sue, no matter how much it pained him.

He wished he knew where Sue was so he could tell her as much. Tell her she had nothing to worry about. Reed was hers. Ben had no plans to challenge her claim on him. Ben, frankly, did not think that it would end in his favor. Reed loved Sue completely. Everyone could see that. Everyone knew it.

Ben was beginning to suspect that Sue did not.

He thought—she knew that he loved Reed. He’d known or suspected that much. But her words at Reed’s bedside…did she think Reed loved Ben? If so, she was mistaken. Ben could settle this quickly without involving Reed at all. Reed did not need to know anything about any of this.

Ben was so afraid he was going to lose Reed and Sue because of this. That they would discover his true feelings for them and abandon him.

That he could not bear. That would destroy him. They were his life, his heart, his soul. Without them, he had nothing.

When he had been trapped in the hideous body of the Thing, Reed and Sue were what had pulled him from the long dark of his grief over the loss of the life, the body, he had once had. They and their love for him had given him the strength he needed to go on. To survive. If he ever became the Thing again, as he was so afraid he would, and Reed and Sue abandoned him, Ben knew he would not have the strength to continue without them.

He would be alone in the cold and the dark, and he would not have their love to warm him, to give him strength when he had none left of his own.

He needed them desperately. They did not need him. That was the painful truth of their relationship.

He would do anything he needed to do to keep them. Even if it meant lying to them about how he felt the rest of his life. Even if it meant suffering forever in silence.

He had accepted long ago that his love for them was hopeless. He was happy simply to be near them, to be allowed some small tiny corner of their hearts. It was enough. He needed no more than that.

“Do you hear that?” Reed said, cocking his head to one side as though listening intently.

“What?” Ben said. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t been paying any attention at all to what Reed had been saying as he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed on which Ben was laying.

But he heard it now. It sounded like…like a choir of angels singing beneath their balcony.

“Is…someone serenading us?” Ben said, frowning.

“No,” Reed said, smiling and looking out the window, past the balcony. “It’s—I know who it is.”

He headed out, and Ben followed.

Princess Seitul was there beneath them, astride a great crimson dragon, eyes shining like stars in the darkness. Ben had never seen anything that was so beautiful and intimidating at the same time, except perhaps for Sue when she was in a temper.

“Reed Richards of Earth,” she declared. “I invite you and your husband to accompany me to the great Zyndarian revel in the woods. I have asked you twice. I will not ask you again.”

Reed glanced at Ben. “Shall we go, old friend? Although I do feel odd going without Sue. She would enjoy this.”

“You?” Ben teased. “Actually want to go to a party?”

Reed’s cheeks flushed very prettily, and Ben wanted to kiss him. “No human has ever been to Zyndarian revel before, Ben. Or well. Not in a long time. How can I possibly turn it down? It’s new. Exciting. An adventure. When have I ever turned down an adventure?” He smiled. “So, old friend? Will you join me?”

Ben thought it over. If they stayed, Reed would continue to worry and pace and Ben didn’t think he could stand that much longer. They weren’t doing anyone any good by hanging around their bedroom doing nothing.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Ben asked. “You did almost die today. That would slow most guys down.”

Reed shrugged. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve nearly died. Come on, old friend. Let’s go somewhere we’ve never been before. I’m going.” He held out a hand toward Ben and his smile held promises that Ben could not turn down. “Will you follow?”

Ben felt it then, that rush of excitement, of glee, of pure, unfettered joy he felt every time Reed took him somewhere new.

“Yeah,” he said, and he couldn’t help it if he smiled as well. He put his hand in Reed’s and squeezed. “Anywhere.”

* * *

The voyage to the deepest dark of the forest on the back of a great dragon was unlike anything Reed had ever experienced before.

It was marvelous. The wind in his hair, the moon and the stars speeding by overhead, treetops billowing beneath them, Ben’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, Reed loved every moment of it.

He did not know how far they flew or how long the voyage lasted, but, at long last, Reed saw a lights shining out through the trees, and the dragon began its slow descent, and Reed knew they had arrived.

The dragon landed in a dimly-lit field not far from the revel. Reed could hear strains of the most beautiful music he had ever heard wafting out through the dense trees.

Seitul reached within the bag she had slung about her shoulders, pulled out an unlit torch, whispered a few words to it, and, to Reed’s great amazement, it erupted in flames.

“Extraordinary!” he said enthusiastically and bent to examine the torch that had lit itself with a single whisper from Seitul.

Magic, despite Reed’s difficulty grasping it, was fascinating, he had to admit.

“Reed Richards,” Seitul said. “You must listen to me now. You must know that the sacred grove to which we are traveling, it is…enchanted. An ancient enchantment that cannot be broken. Your desires…you will not be able to curb them. You will find that, within the grove, there is little difference between wanting a thing and having it. It is sacred to us.”

“What do you mean?” Ben said sharply. “How exactly does that work?”

“If you want a thing…a person…you will not be able to stop yourself. The magic is strong. Overwhelming. You will not be able to resist it. You will not want to. This is your warning.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“It is all the warning I can offer. It is difficult to explain to those who know nothing of magic.” She frowned. “But the two of you are wed. I do not think there will be any difficulties for you. That will offer you protection against the desires of others.”

“Wait,” Ben said. “Desires of others? Is this a party or an orgy? Cause it’s startin’ to sound like an orgy.”

“Your experience of the revel will be what you wish it to be,” Seitul replied, but there was a wicked gleam in her eye. “But I did warn your husband that Zyndarian revels were particularly wild. Our feast tonight is for a fertility goddess, as a matter of fact. It is said that all that step foot in the grove go mad with desire. It is…rather accurate.”

Ben whirled round to glare at Reed accusingly. “You knew?! What the hell are you gettin’ us into, Reed? That definitely sounds like an orgy, Reed!”

“Ah,” Reed said fumblingly. “Yes, now that she mentions it. I do recall her mentioning that they were wild. I admit to not spending too much time wondering why. I was more interested in the opportunity to study Zyndarian customs. There is some writing on Earth that chronicles them, but Ben, think about it! We are the first humans to attend a Zyndarian revel in…at least a few centuries. Perhaps ever. I cannot turn down this opportunity to study such a fascinating culture.” He patted Ben’s back. “Don’t worry, Ben. Everything’s going to be fine. I'm sure the magic won't affect us.”

“Yeah? I’ve heard that before, Reed, and we both know where it got me!”

Reed shot Ben a withering glare. “This,” he said, “is not like that.”

“This isn’t a good idea, Reed,” Ben said firmly. “You and me going to that revel is a bad idea. We should go back.”

Reed sighed. Why was Ben always ruining his fun? “You always say that.”

“And I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Reed did his best to look disappointed. He had noted in the past that when he made a concerted effort to appear sad, Ben was 78.3984% more likely to do as he wanted. With Sue, the number only climbed to only 36.3485%, but Sue rarely allowed others to sway her once she had made up her mind. Reed considered the fact that she ever changed her mind for his sake a testament to her love for him. “Do you really want to go back, Ben?”

“If you did, I could send you back on my dragon,” Seitul offered. “She will return for me when I need her.”

“Are _you_ staying?” Ben asked Reed.

“Yes. Of course I am. I’m not turning down a chance like this. It’s an adventure, and you know my stance on adventures. I never turn one down.”

“Goddammit, Reed! Can’t you just listen to me for once?”

“I _am_ listening to you. I said you could go back if you wanted to.”

“You _also_ know there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go to this shindig by yourself! Especially when the White Queen could be there. I ain’t leavin’ you without anyone to protect you!”

Reed did. He did know that. In fact, he was gambling on it. “I can take care of myself.”

“Really? ‘cause it seems to me that a couple of hours ago, I let you out of my sight for five minutes and you went and almost got yourself killed!”

“Yes, I suppose I did, but notice that I didn’t die. I’m very resilient.”

“Because Suzie and me saved you!”

“Yes, well, I didn’t say I was resilient _alone_ , Benjamin. I rely on the support of my loved ones, always.”

Ben cursed under his breath. “You know what, Stretch? I really regret waking you up. Should not have. You’re so much less irritatin’ when all you do is lie around and look pretty.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ woke me up? I thought the doctor did. Now, what did you mean by that, Benjamin?”

Ben’s mouth worked. “Nothing,” he said, and pushed past Reed and Seitul. “So are we going to this thing or aren’t we?”

Reed wondered what precisely it was about that question that Ben wanted to avoid answering. He partly wanted to press the issue, but mostly he was content that Ben had decided to accompany him.

Reed shrugged at Seitul, who was watching Ben with some confusion, but when he offered her his arm, she took it, and they followed Ben down the dark and winding path that led to the revel.

Reed couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he began to feel it, the ancient magic of which Seitul had warned him. He began to feel…yes, he could see why Seitul had had such a difficult time explaining it.

Reed felt what he had never felt before. Wild. Giddy. Uninhibited. As though he could do anything he wanted to do. As though there was nothing to stop him. As though all that existed was this grove, and within himself, his desire, and nothing else.

The clearing itself was immense. Within the clearing, at its center, was the grove of which Seitul had spoken. Round it the Zyndarians danced and drank and gorged themselves to excess.

Reed watched the dancers as they spun and spun in a whirl of bright colors and resplendent hair and he was overcome by the desire to join them. Seitul already had, the moment she entered the grove. “Dance with me,” he said to Ben.

“Yes,” Ben said instantly. “As long as you want.”

Reed took him by the hand and led him into the whirling crowd. What he had felt at the reception dinner when they arrived on Zyndar…Seitul was right. It was nothing compared to this.

He felt as though he were drunk on wine, although not a drop had passed his lips, but in truth he was drunk on song, on magic which was older than the earth itself, magic which settled in his bones, in his soul, clearing his mind of any and every thing that had ever burdened him. All of his cares, all of his woes, flittering away on the strains of the most melodious music that Reed had ever heard.

Ben and Reed danced and they danced beneath the stars until they were both breathless, until Ben was flushed, his eyes shining in the dim firelight, and he was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and Reed came to two simultaneous realizations: the first, that he wanted to kiss Ben, the second, that he always had.

Always before he had buried the desire deep within himself, refused to acknowledge that it existed at all, for so many reasons that Reed himself could hardly count them all. First, because he thought that someone like Ben couldn’t possibly ever want someone like him, later, because he had been with Sue, and he had loved her with all his heart, and it wasn’t possible, he told himself, to love more than one person at once, and after that, because there was no hope that Ben could ever return his feelings after what Reed had done to him.

His love for Ben had been transformed, ever so slowly, into a guilty shame. He was in love with his best friend, who he had, through his recklessness, disfigured. But he could not possibly be in love with his best friend because he was in love with Sue.

He could not understand how both statements could simultaneously be true, and yet, somehow, they were.

Always, before tonight, he had come up with reason after reason to refrain from doing as his heart asked, but here, tonight, it was as though nothing else existed, save for his own deep love for Ben. It had risen, unbidden, to the surface, and it felt as though it was all that mattered.

Never had Reed wanted anything more than he wanted to kiss Ben in this moment. His need to feel Ben’s lips on his was all-consuming. Reed was drowning in his love for Ben with no hope of salvation, and yet he had never been so happy.

For once in his life, his mind had quieted completely, and all that was left was want and love and need. He knew, distantly, in some corner of his mind, that there was a reason—a million reasons—why he shouldn’t…but he couldn’t seem to think of what they were.

All that mattered was that he wanted to kiss Ben, right here, right now. Nothing else existed.

Reed wanted desperately to kiss Ben, and so kiss Ben he did.

He didn’t know what he expected Ben to do in response. He wasn’t thinking of much of anything, save the electricity that sparked between them every time Ben touched him and the shivers that it sent careening down his spine like so many bolts of lightning.

He was surprised when Ben kissed him back. Fiercely. Relentlessly. Passionately. As though he had been waiting— _wanting_ —Reed as much as Reed had wanted him. Reed was surprised by that knowledge, and yet, somehow, it felt natural that Ben should want him too. As though he had known. As though he had always known that Ben wanted him, the knowledge lingering there, in the depths of his mind.

Ben could kiss, oh, god, how Ben could kiss. It was as though a dam had burst between them, a dam that had held back a torrent of need and want and love that was now pouring forth unfettered.

Reed wanted to kiss Ben more slowly, savor every moment of this, their first kiss, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, how could he? This was _Ben_ , who he’d spent so many long years pining for, Ben, who he loved, Ben, who he would die for, Ben, who was his life, Ben, who was his heart, Ben, who was his soul.

Reed didn’t know how long he and Ben stood there, amid the whirling throng of dancers, kissing and kissing until they were both out of breath, until Reed’s head was spinning and his knees were so weak that if he hadn’t been clinging to Ben, ever his rock, he would have slipped to the ground.

They kissed and kissed until Ben drew away, and Reed felt as though his world had vanished, and perhaps Ben knew, perhaps Ben could see Reed’s dismay, because he gazed deep into Reed’s eyes and said, voice low and dark, “Come with me, Reed.”

Reed wanted to say yes, and so he did. “Anywhere,” he said, and he truly meant it.

* * *

Ben took Reed by the hand then, and he led him into the dark of the forest. There was a part of Ben that existed dimly beyond the reaches of even the grove’s magic that could not believe this was happening. Surely it was a dream, surely the magic Seitul had warned them of was simply convincing Ben that Reed had kissed him so desperately, that he was following Ben, spellbound, into the forest.

The music grew less overwhelming as they distanced themselves from the revel, until Ben could hear in the distance what he had not been able to, there in the light, in the midst of the revel—a forest full of passionate moans and cries of pleasure. Others had clearly had desires not unlike Ben’s.

The magic…its spell…it only seemed more intense out here in the woods. Ben could feel his need for Reed curling up in his gut, driving every other thought out of his head.

 _Reed_ , every part of him sang, _Reed, Reed, Reed._

They walked into the darkness, far enough that they were likely hidden from sight, but Ben found that he could take it no longer. He came to an abrupt stop and pulled Reed toward him. With a small noise of surprise, Reed half stumbled, half fell into Ben’s arms. Ben backed Reed against a tree, his heart beating wildly in his chest, every thought driven out of his head save for one—he wanted Reed, desperately, he would never know happiness again if he didn’t kiss Reed, _right_ _now_ —

“ _Ben_ ,” Reed pleaded, clutching helplessly at Ben’s shirt, and the need in his voice stole Ben’s breath away. He wished he could record it, the sound of Reed saying his voice that way, and play it on a loop forever. Perhaps then he would believe that this was—that it was really happening. “Please, Ben, please—”

Ben didn’t _kiss_ Reed quite so much as he crashed his mouth against Reed’s clumsily, but it wasn’t long before he was kissing Reed hotly, hungrily, desperately, with all the urgency and passion that he’d been burying deep within over the last decade.

Ben’s love for Reed had seemed so hopeless for so very long. Longer than Ben cared to think about. There was a part of him that still could not believe that Reed was _here_ , that Reed, who he had dreamed about, and pined over, and loved for so many long years, was kissing him _back_ , that those were Reed’s fingernails digging into his shoulders and pulling him closer as though he needed Ben as badly as Ben had always needed him.

Ben had never dared allow himself to hope that Reed might return his feelings. To Ben, who always said all the wrong things and came from the most humble of origins, Reed, the son of a billionaire, Reed, indisputably the smartest man on Earth, Reed, who resembled one of those impossibly beautiful fairy tale princes more than anyone Ben had ever met, had always seemed like a distant, unattainable dream.

Ben was sure that before he had ever met Reed, he had dreamed of meeting someone exactly like him. But he had never thought that someone like Reed could possibly be _real_ —someone who was so kind, so beautiful, so perfect.

But it was true. It was happening. Reed was _here_ , with Ben, and he was _real_ , so painfully, beautifully real. Best yet, for tonight, at least, he was all Ben’s.

Ben didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and it didn’t seem to matter. He had Reed tonight, and that was enough. Somehow, it would have to be enough.

He didn’t know how he could ever give Reed up, now that he finally, at long last, had him. He wanted all of him. He wanted to kiss, to touch, to taste every inch of Reed. And he had no intention of waiting.

He thrust his hand into Reed’s pants and wrapped his fingers around Reed’s cock, and he cursed the darkness that rendered it impossible to _see_ Reed’s head arching back as he gasped in ecstasy, that he couldn’t commit to memory the plush round ‘o’ of his mouth, the fluttering of his eyelids, every trace of pleasure that he, Benjamin Jacob Grimm, had put there.

Ben had spent years complaining that Reed never shut up, and he should have known. He should have known that he’d be this vocal during sex. Ben was glad for every single one of Reed’s gasps, moans, and cries of pleasure.

He didn’t know if Reed would ever let him touch him this way again, and he needed to remember every second of it, brand it on his memory, and, more than that, he needed Reed to _know_. For once, at long, long last, he needed Reed to know exactly how Ben felt about him, come what may.

Ben needed to tell Reed the truth of the love that he had buried within his heart for so many years, and so he did. For the first time, perhaps for the last, he told Reed everything.

He brought his lips to Reed’s ear and began whispering a litany of everything he had ever wanted to do to Reed—every time he had ever longed to take Reed in his arms and kiss away his guilt and tears and sadness until he _knew_ that Ben forgave him for everything, that Ben loved him, now and always; every time he had ever dreamed of sweeping Reed off his feet, carrying him to the nearest bed, and kissing him _everywhere_ until he was flushed, pretty and pink, and he begged and begged for Ben’s cock, no less prettily; all the times he had been dying to shove Reed down over one of his lab tables and fuck him hard enough to make the table rattle and buckle beneath them, to make Reed howl; how often he had made himself come while thinking of how hot it would be when he thrust inside of Reed at last, of how soft, how tight Reed would feel wrapped around Ben and Sue as they fucked him together—

And that was when Reed came, spilling hotly over Ben’s fingers, moaning Ben’s name against his neck over and over as though it were a desperate prayer.

Reed collapsed forward, arms round Ben’s shoulders, clinging to him to stay upright. Ben, achingly hard, rolled his hips against Reed’s leg, eliciting a needy moan from Reed, his fingers tightening in Ben’s shoulder, and Ben knew that he could easily make himself come like this…

But then Reed sank to his knees, eyes shining up at Ben, and every thought Ben had was driven out of his head by the delicious sensation of Reed’s hot, hot mouth sliding wetly around his cock.

* * *

Seitul hadn’t warned them that the magic, once it slithered in beneath their skin, once they gave themselves over to it so completely, would never let them stop.

Every time Ben and Reed collapsed, sated and fucked out, it would take only a little while before they felt it surging up within them once more, a raging fire of desire and passion that could not be denied.

Ben lost count of the number of times he fucked Reed that night, how often he heard Reed, in the throes of ecstasy, cry out his name, how many times he felt him clench down impossibly tightly around Ben’s cock, his heels digging into the small of Ben’s back, his fingers tightening above the wrists Ben had pinned down, his body arcing up to meet Ben’s.

Ben came to know with intimate familiarity everything that drove Reed wild. He learned what it was that made him sigh, made him moan, made him howl, made him buck and come over and over again around Ben’s cock. Ben didn’t know how he would ever forget.

He discovered that Reed loved it when Ben held him down and took him mercilessly; he learned that Reed was as adventurous in bed as he was out of it; he learned that Reed’s powers made him a phenomenal lay.

It wasn’t until the first glimmers of the sun began lightening the sky above the tops of the trees that Ben and Reed, exhausted, fell into a weary sleep.

* * *

Reed awoke, hours later, in a clearing full of blossoming violet flowers. Naked, save for the arm Ben had tossed across Reed’s chest.

Seitul was standing over them. She tossed their clothes at them and said, “Get dressed. It’s time we returned home. I’ll be preparing my dragon.” Her eyes flicked over Reed’s bare body. “You may want to clean up first.” She pointed to their left. “There’s a river over there. Watch out for the nymphs. And never go near a mermaid.”

She turned on her heel and left, and Reed was left alone with Ben, with the enormity of what he’d done the night before just beginning to settle in, the knowledge of how badly he’d betrayed—

“Sue,” he said, hiding his face in shame. “Oh, god. I cheated on Sue.”

Ben rose to his feet. “I told you we should have gone back,” he said, and left.

He left Reed alone with his shame, alone with his grief, alone with his guilt.

Again Reed had destroyed Ben and Sue’s lives, again Ben had warned Reed, again Reed had not listened.

After the rocket crash, they had stood by him. After this…he did not see how they could. He was going to lose Sue. He feared that he had already lost Ben.

“Wanting is the same as having,” Seitul had said.

Had this happened because Reed had wanted Ben, even though he had not known it? Had he…had he forced himself on Ben? If he had, he would never forgive himself.

It was all Reed’s fault. Despite his best intentions, he destroyed everything he touched. Hurt everyone he loved. The things he and Ben had done last night…how could Ben ever forgive him? How could Sue?

He had never wanted to hurt Sue or Ben, the two people he loved more than anything. And yet, somehow, without meaning to, he had.

And now he was going to be alone, alone as he’d always feared he would be. First his mother had died, slowly, painfully, and Reed had been forced to watch, unable to do anything to save her despite his great intellect; then one day, not long after, his father had simply left, left and never returned, and Reed had begun to wonder if he was simply cursed to lose those he loved most.

He had spent a lonely few years—interrupted only by the incorrigible Alyssa Moy—and he had begun to convince himself that he was, perhaps, better alone.

But then he had walked into that dorm room at State University—alone, as he had been so much of his life—and met Ben. And then Sue and Johnny. By the time he left State, he had not been alone anymore. He had beside him three people he loved more than anything, three people he was sure felt the same about him. He had made himself a family to replace the one he had lost so long ago.

And he had begun to remember how wonderful it was, being surrounded people who genuinely loved and cared for him.

But he had been foolish, he had been selfish, and he had risked their lives on that experimental flight—he had been sure, so absolutely certain, that he was right, that they would be safe, and he had gambled everything on that certainty.

Ben had warned him against his rashness, then as he had now. Reed had not listened either time.

If he alone had paid the price, he could have borne that. He would have made his peace with it. But Ben, and Sue, and Johnny, what wrong had they ever done anyone? They didn’t deserve what he’d done to them. They hadn’t deserved it at all.

He had sworn to himself then that he’d spend every waking hour ensuring that their lives were as perfect as he could possibly make them. That no sorrow or pain would ever touch them again.

But he had failed. His damn curiosity, his arrogance, had led him, once more, to hurt those he loved. And now it was possible that he would lose them because of it. Now it was possible that he would be alone again.

Reed didn’t know if he could bear that. It would break him. He could weather any storm as long as Ben and Sue were at his side. But without them? He would break and shatter and fall apart like so many fragile pieces of glass.

They were his strength. Without them, he had none at all.

What was he going to do without them?

* * *

Ben was speaking quietly to Seitul when Reed arrived after quickly washing himself off in the river and dragging his clothes onto his soaking wet body.

They ceased speaking the moment he arrived. Ben could not look Reed in the eye.

Reed could not blame him.

Within his breast there was a single thought, echoing endlessly, “I have lost him. I have lost him. I have lost him,” each iteration like the sharp thrust of a dagger within Reed’s flesh.

It reminded Reed all too clearly of those terrible days that followed the crash, when he had sat alone in the prison cell the army had taken him to, alone with his thoughts, alone with his fear that Ben, and Sue, and Johnny would never forgive him for what he had done to them.

He had been able to remember only the anguish in Ben’s rocky face as he had shouted, “Look at what he’s done to me!”

That single image, repeated over and over again.

Reed had sat motionless, speechless, drowning in his guilt, for three days. Unable to sleep. Unable to eat. Unable to do anything but loathe himself and his unforgivable carelessness.

Ben, Sue, and Johnny had found some way to forgive him then, even if it had taken months with Ben, months of anger and recriminations and hatred, and Reed had been able to do nothing save sit quietly and take every one of Ben’s words as though it was a physical blow, because he had known that Ben was right about everything.

He wondered if Ben would be able to forgive him for this, or if it truly was the end of everything they had shared together.

The trip back to the castle—Reed should have marveled at the sight of the forest, at the wind ripping through his hair, but all he had been able to think about was the fact that this time, Ben’s arms were not around his waist. This time Ben did not able to tolerate touching him at all.

Not a word passed between them, even when Seitul’s dragon landed in the palace courtyard. They dismounted, and Reed headed straight for their bedroom. Ben trailed silently behind him.

Sue was waiting in their bedroom, sitting at the foot of their bed, seemingly lost in weighty thoughts of her own. She looked ragged, and thin, and pale, and the circles beneath her eyes told Reed that she had not slept at all.

He felt like a monster. He was responsible for her pain. He was responsible for her misery. Had she been up all night worrying about where Ben and Reed were?

Reed hadn’t even bothered to leave her a note telling her not to worry.

Oh, god. Oh, god. How could he have done this to her?

“Susan,” he said hoarsely. “We need to talk.”

Sue glanced up, took in the looks on Ben and Reed’s faces, and then it was as though a shutter fell closed behind her eyes. “Yes,” she said, in a voice that was colder than any Reed had ever heard directed at him before, a voice she normally reserved for talking to supervillains. “I think we do.”

“Ben,” Reed said, eyes fixed on Sue. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Buddy. I think I should stay here. You want me here. Trust me.”

“Ben,” Reed said tensely. “I appreciate your advice and your desire to help, but this is between Sue and myself.”

“Reed,” Ben said. “You’re not listening to me again. I think we both know what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

“This is different, Ben,” Reed said. “Please go.”

Ben hesitated, but then nodded resignedly. “I’ll be outside if you two need me.” He paused before he shut the door behind him. “Suzie. Go easy on him. It ain’t his fault.”

Sue raised her eyebrows at Reed as soon as the door was shut. “What isn’t your fault?”

Reed had no idea how to tell her. “I—Ben and I we—“ He cleared his throat and sank down onto the bed next to her and buried his head in his hands. “My darling, I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I would never—you know I would never willingly—“

“You would never willingly do what?” Reed’s mouth worked silently. “Oh, just spit it out. For once in your life. Just tell me, Reed.”

Reed could not bear to see the look of grief, of rage, of betrayal that was sure to appear on Sue’s face after he said the words he could not bring himself to say. He lowered his eyes and cast about for a way to say it.

“Reed!” Sue snapped. “Would you just tell me?!”

The words began to spill out of Reed then, and once they did, he couldn’t seem to stop. “The princess invited us to a Zyndarian revel. You weren’t here, and she said she wouldn’t invite us again, and I was worrying, and I was curious, and I was…I was a fool, Sue. I should know that when magic and I—“ He shook his head. “Seitul tried to warn us, Ben tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. She told us. In the sacred grove, there are enchantments that make it so that what you want to do, you do. It—it lowers your inhibitions, I suppose. I felt like I was very drunk. Impossibly drunk. As though…nothing existed outside of that grove…but Sue. My darling, my love. I don’t—I don’t know how to tell you this. Ben and I we—“

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it. How could he say those words to Sue? How can he have done it?

Sue laughed brokenly. “You did it. You really did it. It finally happened. You slept with Ben, didn’t you?

Reed was surprised. She knew about his feelings for Ben? Feelings even he hadn’t been aware of? “Yes,” he said, because there was no point in pretending otherwise anymore. “I never would have if I’d had a say—you know I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never have agreed to sleep with Ben so long as I was with you. I suspect Ben would not have either.”

Sue seemed to find that amusing for some reason Reed could not fathom. “Does it make any difference, Reed? You slept with Ben because you wanted him. Because you love him, and you don’t love me. _That’s_ what I can’t forgive, Reed. That’s what I don’t see a way through for us. You don’t love me, not really.” Reed began to protest, but Sue cut him off. “Oh, you care about me, I know that. But you’re not _in_ love with me. Why are you even still with me? Just do it already. Leave. I know you’re going to, and I can’t bear another second of waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting—”

Reed had to stop her. The misery, the despair, the near hysteria in her voice—he couldn’t bear to hear it. He couldn’t bear knowing that he was the cause. “Sue,” he pleaded, reaching out to wrap his fingers round her wrist. “That’s not true. I don’t want to leave you. I do love you. I do.”

“Not the way you love him, Reed. Not the way I want you to love me. You don’t love me that way and you never have. It’s always been him, and I’ve always known it.”

“What?” Reed said in horrified stupefaction. “Do you mean that the whole time we’ve been together you’ve thought that I was in love with Ben?”

“I didn’t think it, Reed, I knew it. And I was right, wasn’t I? You do love him. You _are_ going to leave me.”

“No,” Reed insisted. “No. I am not leaving you, Sue. Never.”

“Oh, Reed,” Sue said pityingly. “You can be so oblivious sometimes. Darling, you couldn’t honestly have thought that this was going to end any other way. You’re in love with someone else. Our best friend.” She shook her head, her eyes bright with tears, her voice tremulous. “We were always going to end like this, and I always knew it, even if you didn’t.”

She rose to her feet and pressed a kiss to Reed’s forehead. “Goodbye, Reed,” she said, and then she left, and Reed was alone again.

He was going to collapse beneath the unbearable weight of his grief, and guilt, and misery. Unable to maintain himself upright, Reed collapsed down to the ground, curled his knees up, wrapped his arms about them, buried his face in his arms, and wept and wept as though somehow his tears could make everything all right again.

As though they could make Sue come back to him, because there was nothing else in the world that mattered but her.

Reed was unaware of the passage of time. Perhaps five minutes had passed, perhaps an hour. It felt like an eternity. An eternity in which Reed was trapped alone in the dark with only his grief to keep him company.

But at last there was a hand on his shoulder, and someone was sitting down on the floor next to him, and then Ben was saying softly, “She left you, didn’t she?”

Reed wanted to say, “Yes,” but he found that his words had left him. He couldn’t speak, so he resigned himself to nodding. Brokenly. Because he was. Broken. Beyond repair.

Humpty Dumpty. Tumbling off his wall. And nothing would ever put him back together again. Not this time. Not without Sue.

Ben sighed. “I thought she would.” The hand on Reed’s shoulder squeezed. “Hey, c’mere, buddy.”

Reed looked over through blurry, tear-filled eyes, and saw that Ben was holding his arms open for Reed.

Reed had no idea why Ben was being so kind to him after everything he’d done, but at the moment he didn’t care. He threw himself into Ben’s arms and clung him to him with all the desperation of a drowning man clinging to a life preserver in the midst of a roiling sea.

Ben likely hadn’t been expecting Reed to curl up on his lap as he sobbed, but Reed needed to feel that he wasn’t alone, that there was still someone left in the world who loved and cared about him.

When Ben wrapped his arms around Reed, held him tightly, and began to stroke his hair with such gentleness, such kindness, that it only made Reed cry harder. He knew he didn’t deserve Ben’s kindness at all.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, buddy,” Ben murmured reassuringly.

Ben was patient—Reed would be eternally grateful for his patience and kindness, particularly when Reed knew he did not deserve it at all.

Ben held Reed tightly until Reed’s great, wracking sobs subsided into a few pitiful sniffles, and then he lessened his hold on Reed. He reached into Reed’s deep, multidimensional pockets, pulled out a tissue, and carefully wiped Reed’s face clean.

“Ben, why are you being so kind to me?” Reed asked, now that he’d found his voice again. “After what I did to you.”

Ben frowned as he wiped the tears away from Reed’s right cheek. “What’d you do this time?”

What _hadn’t_ Reed done to Ben? “Last night,” he clarified. “I had feelings for you that I was unaware of. And I—“ He let his eyes fall penitently. “I forced them and myself on you, Benjamin. Everything is all my fault. As always.”

Ben’s hand went very still. He gave Reed a look of utter contempt, but it was mingled with some wry amusement. “I swear, for someone whose supposedly one of the smartest guys ever, you sure are dumb, Reed.”

Reed scowled indignantly. “What precisely am I being dumb about, Benjamin? We both know what happened last night. It was my fault. I can’t imagine that you’d ever—ever want me that way after…after what I did to you.”

Ben sighed. “What’d you do this time?”

“The—the rocket crash? I turned you into the Thing through my…my carelessness. I turned your life into a living misery, and you hate me because of it. I know you do, Ben. Don’t bother denying it. And then…last night I…I don’t know why you’re still here, Ben. I don’t know why you haven’t left me too.”

Ben’s face turned crimson—Reed didn’t know why at first, but it became clear when Ben exploded in a burst of anger. “You _stupid_ —“ Ben made a frustrated noise. He threw the tissues to one side with rather more force than was strictly necessary. That couldn’t be a good sign. “Listen and listen good, Einstein—we didn’t do anything last night that I haven’t wanted to do for years. That I wouldn’t have done any time you wanted to, without any magic involved. And I don’t hate you at all. I never have.” When Reed gave Ben a skeptical look, Ben sighed. “Look, I was mad at you for a long time, I ain’t sayin’ that I wasn’t, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love you. Because I do. Always have. Always will. There ain’t nothing you could do that would ever change that. Ain’t nothin’ I could do either, for that matter, even if I wanted to, and I don’t. I ain’t leavin’ you, Reed. I’m _never_ leavin’ you. You’d better get used to having me around, because you’re stuck with me. Now and forever.”

Reed was speechless. His mouth worked, but no sound came out at all.

Ben seemed amused. “You’re really surprised by this, Einstein? Don’t you remember _any_ of what I said to you last night? I wasn’t exactly tryin’ to hide how I felt. Don’t think I could’ve if I’d wanted to. I mean every word I said, and you did too.”

A memory rose to the surface of Reed’s mind, unbidden—Ben’s mouth, hot against Reed’s neck, Ben whispering a filthy litany of everything he had ever wanted to do to Reed…and Reed, moaning helplessly into the cold night air, and not exactly bothering to hide how much he enjoyed every word Ben said to him, every clever stroke of his fingers.

“Oh,” Reed said, cheeks flushing scarlet. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Ben chuckled. “Reed, baby, I love you, but how’d you miss that?”

Reed’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I was so guilty about everything that I—I didn’t think.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “When you get guilty…you ain’t good at thinking, baby.” He traced his fingers lightly, lovingly, down Reed’s cheek. It made Reed shiver. “That’s why you’ve got me.”

“Do I? Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You always have.”

Ben pressed his forehead against Reed’s then and shut his eyes, and Reed did the same. He reveled in their newfound closeness, in the knowledge that Ben, wonderfully, gloriously, forgave him, that, despite every one of Reed’s unforgivable sins, Ben still loved him.

Reed didn’t understand how it could possibly be true, and yet it was.

Reed didn’t know if he had yet found it in himself to forgive himself for the arrogance that led to the rocket crash, didn’t know if he ever could, but it was comforting to know that he hadn’t lost Ben’s love because of it. That perhaps he never would. Never _could_. That Ben would never leave him, no matter what.

It felt like Heaven. A Heaven Reed did not deserve, but he would work hard, every day of his life, to deserve Ben and the love he was offering.

It was so close to perfect. So close to what Reed had always wanted. A family full of people who loved him, to replace the one he had lost so many years ago.

All it was missing was…

“What are we going to do about Sue?” Reed said, drawing back so that he could gaze into the bright blue of Ben’s eyes, eyes Reed could so easily get lost in, if only…if only Sue were here. “I can’t lose her, Ben. I need her.”

“I can fix all of this, y’ know,” Ben said. “I know some things you and Suzie don’t.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “For once.”

“For instance?”

“Do you know how you woke up yesterday?”

Reed frowned. Of course he knew. Why was Ben asking him this? “The doctors…” All right, perhaps he didn’t know. “…did something? To wake me up. Gave me a potion or something, I assume.”

“No, baby,” Ben said softly, “that ain’t what happened at all. It was a curse the White Queen hit you with. Magical. That could only be broken with true love’s kiss. Where both parties feel true love for each other, ta be specific.”

“Well, if Sue woke me up, then why would she think that I don’t—“

“Because she tried kissing you and it didn’t work. _I_ woke you up.”

“Oh,” Reed said, eyes widening in horror. So that was why Sue had been so convinced that he didn’t love her, even when he’d tried to explain that he did. “ _Oh_. Oh, no. But why? I do—I know I do love her truly. It’s not—I’m not lying. How is that possible? The magic is wrong, Ben.”

“No, it wasn’t. Suzie just didn’t understand what’d happened. Neither did I, ’til I asked Seitul about it on a hunch. I was talkin’ to her about it this morning before you came along lookin’ like a kicked puppy. Turns out, if the cursed person’s in love with two people, which in this case would be you…”

Ben smiled happily at Reed, as though he still couldn’t quite believe it. Neither could Reed for that matter. He smiled too. He felt so happy, so in love, that he was on the verge of bursting with joy.

“But,” Ben continued, “they _both_ have to kiss him to wake him up. So if I’d kissed you first and Suzie’d kissed you last, you would’ve woken up when she kissed you, but because I kissed you last…I’m the one who woke you up.”

“So I _am_ in love with Sue,” Reed said, relieved. “That makes much more sense. Not that I needed a magical kiss to tell me that.” He frowned. “But—that means I also—“

“Love me,” Ben said, smiling as though he couldn’t help it. “ _True_ love. Yeah.”

“I’m in love with Ben. And I’m in love with Sue,” Reed said, trying out the words. Never had anything felt so right.

Ben bumped his forehead against Reed’s, beaming. “Say that again, baby.”

“I’m in love with you,” Reed whispered. “I’m in love with you, Benjamin Jacob Grimm, and I think I always have been.”

Ben threw his head back and laughed then, and it was a laugh of pure joy, of love found at long last after so many weary years of hopeless pining. “You love me,” he said, as though he still couldn’t believe it. “You love me.”

Reed couldn’t help it—he was beaming too. “I do. I love you.” He caught Ben’s head and dragged him in close. “You love me too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben said, feigning annoyance, although the smile on his face softened his words. “Don’t rub it in. I also am in love with Suzie, just so’s you know.”

“You are?” Reed said.

It seemed beyond belief that it might be possible for him to have Sue and Ben both. That he might not have to choose between them. Because how could he ever? To lose either of them would be to lose the best parts of himself—they were, together, his heart, his soul.

“I am,” Ben said. “I definitely, definitely am. Both of you together are…my everything. My reason for being.”

“Do you think,” Reed said breathlessly, because he had to, he _had_ to, “one kiss would—would make us bad people?”

“We already had sex,” Ben pointed out. “More than once.”

“Yes, but we couldn’t help that. This would be us, doing it because we wanted to.”

Ben smirked. “Doing it?”

“Kissing. I am talking about kissing. Once. And then we must go find Sue and explain the truth.”

“I think one kiss would be okay,” Ben whispered, and then he kissed Reed.

Reed had thought, the night before, that the elation he’d felt whenever Ben touched him, held him, kissed him, was due to the magic. He was discovering now, as Ben kissed him so softly, so tenderly, as though Reed was so infinitely precious, that such was not the case.

* * *

Sue stumbled, devastated, out of the room she’d shared with Ben and Reed. She walked and walked, neither knowing nor caring where her feet were taking her.

All she knew was that she had lost Reed, her one true love, and she had lost Ben, her best friend.

What was she going to do with herself now?

If only Reed hadn’t bitten into that cursed fruit, if only the White Queen hadn’t—

_He will never truly be yours._

That is what the White Queen had said to her.

She _knew,_ Sue realized in a flash. She knew that Ben, Reed, and Sue weren’t married. Sue had no idea how, but the White Queen knew. She knew Sue’s suspicions about Reed’s true feelings.

Had she given Reed that cursed fruit knowing that it would lead to this?

A cold fury rose in Sue’s breast. This was _her_ fault. The White Queen. She had taken Reed from Sue. She had taken away everything that mattered to her.

Sue would not let it stand. Sue would make her pay.

Sue’s footsteps turned surer as she headed to the hangar where Reed’s spaceship was kept.

She was going to Yaor, and by the time Sue was done with her, the White Queen would beg for mercy.

* * *

It was a simple matter to steal Reed’s spaceship and head for Yaor. It was even simpler to land outside of the Celestial Palace.

For all the princesses’ warnings, there were no protections around the planet. No foul beasts. A clear path for Sue down to the surface. When she reached the Celestial Palace, the doors opened before her as though she were expected.

If Sue hadn’t been so overcome by a white-hot rage, she would perhaps have felt suspicious at the ease with which she reached the planet. She would perhaps have suspected a trap.

Sue wandered cautiously through the great, echoing halls, filled with cobwebs and old, decaying furniture.

“Where the hell is she?” she muttered to herself.

Sue wanted to find the White Queen. Her fingers twitched with the need to hurt the White Queen as badly as she had been hurt.

Revenge. She wanted revenge, and she would have it.

She reached a long, endless corridor, silver doors with impossible intricate designs on either side.

Sue felt it now—a creeping feeling of terror, as though something sinister were hiding just around the corner, as though the great, blank walls were staring at her…

She had something’s attention, that was for certain.

But she was not about to let that cow her. Susan Storm did not give in to fear, not ever. She was a superhero.

She squared her jaw, took a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door to the first room—it was small, with a bed in the center and not much else. But then…the room had been empty when she’d opened the door, hadn’t it?

How was it that Ben and Reed were there now, sitting on the bed, in each other’s arms? How had they beaten her here? And why were they…kissing?

Ben pulled back from his deep, passionate kiss and smiled triumphantly at Reed. “She’s gone, baby,” he said. “We finally got rid of her. It’s just you and me now. The way it always should’ve been. The way it always would’ve been if she hadn’t come along and messed everything up.”

“Thank god,” Reed agreed. “I never loved her. Never wanted her. She was just…convenient. You’re the one I love. The one I’ve always loved. Sue meant nothing to me. Less than nothing. Good riddance.”

Reed didn’t mean that. God. He…he _couldn’t_ mean that. Sue knew he—he actually cared about her. He wouldn’t—he would never say these things. Never be so cruel.

The Reed she knew was sweet and kind and good and—this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real.

“Hmph,” Ben said cruelly. “Can’t believe she never realized that you ‘nd me were fucking the whole time you were with her. What a ditz. But dames, you know. Not a brain in their heads.”

“She was never good enough to be on the Fantastic Four,” Reed said. “Never smart enough. Never tough enough. We’ve been propping her up this whole time, you and me.”

“No,” Sue said, horrified. “It’s not—it’s not _true_.”

They didn’t think that. They had never thought that.

She was Reed’s equal. She always had been. He listened to her. Respected her. She was his partner. Everything they did, they did together.

“But now she’s gone, baby,” Ben grinned. “And you’re all mine.”

Ben kissed Reed then, and Sue could _see_ —Sue knew—that Reed had never kissed her like that. He had never…never really wanted her. It had all been a lie.

Everything they’d had…everything she’d thought they had. The beautiful fairy tale romance she’d concocted in her mind.

It had all been all a lie.

He had never really loved her. He had never truly been hers.

She fell to her knees.

Oh, god.

* * *

It took Ben and Reed half an hour of searching frantically through the Zyndarian palace to realize that Sue was no longer there. It took Reed approximately five minutes after that to determine that his spaceship was missing, and another three to determine where it had gone.

It took Ben and Reed another hour of arguing with the princesses to get them to agree to lend them a spaceship so they could chase after Sue, but nothing they said could persuade them to send troops to accompany them.

But if they had to rescue Sue, there was nothing in the universe that could stop them.

They found Reed’s spaceship in the ominously empty courtyard when they landed, but Sue was nowhere to be found.

“That ain’t a good sign,” Ben said, instinctively lowering his typically boisterous voice to a whisper. He had, anticipating a battle, shifted into the Thing. “Why’s it so quiet, Reed?”

Reed was fiddling with one of his gizmos. “I don’t know,” he admitted distractedly. “But I think Sue is…” He frowned and pointed directly at the palace. “That way.”

Ben sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

The interior of the palace was no less insidious than the exterior. They pushed forward through the entrance hall—Ben batted away the cobwebs that struck him directly in the face.

He panicked when he lost sight of Reed for a moment, but he quickly found him wandering down a corridor, eyes fixed on the frammistat he’d pulled out of his multidimensional pockets.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Ben complained, his footsteps echoing through the eerily silent halls.

“Yes,” Reed said, examining his surroundings with some trepidation. “It’s curious, isn’t it? I feel it as well. A creeping sense of unease. As though…as though something is terribly wrong, but I—I cannot put my finger on what.”

“I feel like we’re in a horror movie,” Ben said. “And a monster’s gonna pop out from around the corner any second now.”

Reed looked up at Ben coldly. “The monster is already here.”

Ben felt a cold, sharp stab of panic and looked around wildly, fists at the ready. “Where?”

“You,” Reed said matter-of-factly. “You’re the monster. You always have been, haven’t you?”

“What?”

“It’s what you worry about in the dead of night, isn’t it? That this rocky skin is your punishment. For not saving Dan. For not saving your parents. For leaving behind everyone in your neighborhood, condemning them to the despair, hopelessness, and slow death of poverty, and not caring because _you_ made it. You got out.”

“Why are you sayin’ this, Reed? How could you?”

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you were always so content to stand by and watch while Sue and I were together, never saying anything, never _planning_ to say anything. You thought—you _knew_ —that you didn’t deserve us. And you don’t, Ben. You’re a monster. Why would I ever love you? How could I ever love a thing like you? You’re not even a person anymore, Ben. You’re just a thing.”

“No,” Ben said, the words catching in his throat. “You do love me. I know you—you don’t mean this, Reed. Baby. You don’t mean this.”

“I do,” Reed said. “I mean every word. You know why I keep you around, don’t you? To protect me. To do the dirty work I can’t. Or won’t. That’s all. I mean, really, Benjamin. My IQ is nearly four times yours. Speaking to you is like…speaking to a monkey. No. Worse. A rat. A mindless rat. How could I love you? You’re nothing. Nobody.”

“Reed,” Ben pleaded. “Stop this.” He fell to his knees. “ _Please_.”

But Reed paid him no heed. “You know what you deserve, don’t you, Ben? You know how to make it all better. You know what you need to do. To keep the world safe from a monster like you.”

“Yes,” Ben gasped.

He did know.

He’d always known.

* * *

The moment when Reed and Ben were separated passed unnoticed for Reed. His eyes were fixed on his tracking device, on the bright red dot that indicated the homing device in Sue’s uniform, which worryingly hadn’t moved at all since they’d arrived.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t see them until he tripped over them, tumbled down to the ground, and gasped in horror.

It was Sue. Lying there, lifeless, eyes cold and fixed and staring. Sticky red blood pooling around her golden, golden hair.

She was dead. Reed knew she was dead. He couldn’t bear to—to touch her and check. He just. He knew.

His eyes noted something orange behind her. It was Ben. He wasn’t—he wasn’t breathing either. His blue eyes were—Reed had never seen them look that way. Fixed. Unblinking.

The image would haunt his dreams, he knew it.

“No,” Reed whispered. “No.”

He bowed his head, a yawning chasm of grief and guilt opening up within his breast, which he knew he could never hope to fill.

He had always known it would end like this. That this was where his recklessness would lead them all.

Ben and Sue. They were dead. They had left him. It was all his fault.

 _My fault,_ Reed thought, over and over. _My fault. My fault. My fault._

And he knew too that there was no way to fix this. Not ever. He had failed them. Again.

When had he ever done anything else?

* * *

Ben didn’t know how long he knelt there, hands hanging down listlessly to the ground. As Reed went on and on about every single one of Ben’s many failings.

Somewhere in the back of his mind…it was the strangest sensation. A voice whispered to him. “Reed loves you,” it said. “He would never say this, and you know it. This isn’t real.”

“It’s not real,” Ben whispered to himself, marveling at the words, at the truth he found in them. “Reed loves me.”

He felt hope begin to blossom within his breast.

“Reed loves me,” he said again. The thought gave him strength. It gave him the strength to look up at the man who claimed he was Reed.

He realized belatedly. The man’s eyes were colder than ice. Cruel. They weren’t Reed’s eyes. They couldn’t be. Reed’s eyes were warm, kind, and loving. Always.

“Reed loves me,” he said to the impostor. “You ain’t Reed.” He rose to his feet. “And if you ain’t Reed, that means…” He slammed his closed fist against the other. “Hey, buddy. You wanna know what time it is?”

“Pathetic,” Impostor Reed said. “Even your battle cry is inane—“

“Your face is inane,” Ben said. “And I’m gonna punch it. Cause…IT’S CLOBBERIN’ TIME!”

Ben punched the Impostor as hard as he could.

The Imposter vanished into thin air. There one minute, gone the next.

Ben snorted. “Can’t even handle a little clobberin’. Definitely not Reed.”

Which meant, of course, that Ben now had to rescue Sue and Reed.

Ben sighed wearily. Such was his life.

* * *

He found Reed kneeling in a corridor not too fair from where he had been.

Reed was cradling. In his lap. Someone who looked like—like Sue. She seemed—dead. There was. A lot of blood.

There was another body. It looked like—well, Ben.

“Reed?” Ben said cautiously, inching toward Reed. “Izzat you, baby?”

This could be another trick, after all.

Reed kept his eyes fixed on Sue’s lifeless face. “I killed her.”

“What?” Ben said, stopping dead in his tracks. “Whaddya mean you killed her?”

“I killed you too,” he said, voice hollow. “I was reckless. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have risked her life. I shouldn’t have risked yours.” He glanced up at Ben, and Ben recoiled from the utter desolation he saw on Reed’s face. He hadn’t seen Reed look like that since…well, since the horrible days that followed the rocket crash, the days they had spent languishing in a military prison. “You’re dead and I’m alone. And I have no one to blame but myself.”

“How can I be dead, honey?” Ben said gently. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

Reed frowned. “A hallucination, perhaps? Fueled by my guilt.” He let his head fall again. “Yes. You’re a hallucination.”

“No, baby,” Ben said. “I’m real. They’re the fakes. I’m alive. So’s Suzie, probably. But we gotta find her. She’s been here so long. Who knows what this place has done to her.” He put a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Honey. This place. It messes with your head. Makes you live through your worst fears. This is yours. But you gotta snap out of it. Suzie needs us.”

“Sue’s dead,” Reed said blankly. “Can’t you see she’s dead?” He held out a hand to Ben to show him that it was red with blood. “It’s my fault. I did this. The blood. It—it’ll never wash off. I’ve lost you both.” He nodded his head as he dropped his hand. “I’m alone. The way I was always afraid I would be. Because I always knew you would all leave me. I never deserved you. I never deserved any of you.”

Ben shut his eyes and focused. He felt his muscles shift, his skin recoil…and then he was regular Ben Grimm again. He thought that it might be wise to remind Reed that he was no longer the Thing.

He caressed Reed’s face with his human hand. “Baby, you do deserve us. We ain’t dead. I’m alive and I’m right here. And I love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Reed said, voice tight, face full of anguish. “You shouldn’t. I’ll only hurt you. Haven’t I hurt you enough already, Ben?”

Ben cupped Reed’s face. “Turning me into the Thing…you didn’t do it on purpose, baby. It was an accident.”

“But I should have known. I shouldn’t have risked your lives. I thought the math was right. I thought I was right. I thought we would be safe. I was wrong, and all of you paid the price. The people I loved most. My family.” Tears welled up slowly in Reed’s eyes. “Ben,” he said hoarsely. “How can I ever make that right?”

“I dunno, baby,” Ben said, lost. “All I know is…I forgive you. I can’t help you forgive yourself, but for what it’s worth, I forgive you.” He bumped his forehead against Reed’s and whispered, “And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Why?” Reed said, tears tumbling down his face. “I don’t understand why.”

Ben didn’t even have to stop and think. He already knew. “Cause you’re brave. And the kindest person I’ve ever met. The most generous. The gentlest. Reed, you ain’t never met a person you haven’t tried to help. You’ve got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. Big enough to take in everyone on the planet. Hell, everyone in the multiverse. You’re the best guy I know, Reed. How could I not fall in love with you? I never had a chance.”

“I’m none of those things,” Reed said tearfully. “I wish I was.”

“You can’t see the good in yourself ‘cause all you can see is the bad. I see the good, Reed. And there’s so much of it to see.” He smiled. “It also doesn’t hurt that you look like Prince Charming. Or that you’re great in bed, it turns out.”

“Ben,” Reed chided. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m serious,” Ben whispered. “Why do you think all the girls always went crazy about you?”

“Did they?” Reed said. “I never noticed.”

Ben smiled. “‘Cause you only ever had eyes for Suzie.”

Reed covered Ben’s hand with his own, and then his eyes…they were the eyes Ben knew. Full of warmth and love. “And you. Always you.”

Ben kissed him, and when he pulled back, the false Sue and Ben were gone. “Well,” he said, as he helped Reed to his feet. “Time to find Suzie.”

* * *

They found her upstairs, curled up and sobbing against a wall, her hands covering her ears to block out the sound of…

“More impostors,” Ben sighed. “This place’s gotta stop stealin’ my face.” He turned to Reed as he shifted into the Thing. “I’ll clobber ‘em. You talk ta Suzie.”

Reed nodded. He still hadn’t entirely recovered from his own hallucination. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking. But for Sue, he would find the strength to persevere.

He knelt by her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “Susan,” he said as gently as he could. “My darling. Please.”

“No,” Sue said piteously, cowering away from Reed. “Enough. Please. No more.”

Reed’s heart twisted in his chest. He couldn’t bear to see Sue, so proud and strong, so utterly cowed. “I love you,” he said. “I have always loved you.”

Sue raised her head, face streaked with tears. “But you said that you didn’t. That it was all a lie. That you never cared about me at all.”

Reed shook his head. “It wasn’t me, my love. That was a hallucination. I am real, and I assure you, I love you as much today as I did the day I met you. More, in fact.”

Sue shook her head. “But you love Ben. He kissed you awake. That was real. I know that was real.”

“No,” Reed said, wiping away her tears. “Both of you together kissed me awake. That’s how it works if you’re in love with two people. _True_ love with two people.”

Sue looked as though she was going to start crying again. “You can’t mean that. You can’t really love me. I’ve known for years that it was Ben you loved and not me.”

“Then you were wrong,” Reed said softly. “I am in love with you. _And_ I am in love with Ben. But it’s not an either/or, Susan. I love you both.”

Sue seemed as though she were listening to him, finally. “But—what does that mean for us? If you’re in love with two people? How is that going to work? Will I have to share you with Ben? What, he gets you Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays and I get you the rest of the week?”

“Ben loves you too, my darling. If you wanted both of us, you could have us.”

Sue went very still. “Instead of…losing you both…I would…you would both be mine?”

“We already are, my love. If you want us.”

Sue glanced up at Ben, who had been listening quietly since the moment he quickly dispatched the false Ben and Reed. “Ben?”

Ben shifted into his human form as he knelt next to Sue and took her hand in his. He kissed it passionately and then he looked at her, eyes burning, as though that were his answer.

“Oh,” Sue said, cheeks turning pink. “ _Oh_.”

Ben grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Did you just think about what the sex would be like?”

Sue’s face grew redder. “No,” she said, before amending that to, “Yes.”

“Why?” Reed said, confused. He’d never actually had sex with more than one person at a time. He’d never…actually had sex with anyone other than Ben and Sue, come to think of it. “What would it be like?”

“Why don’t we get the hell outta this dump and find out?” Ben said. “ _Now_.”

“Yes,” Reed said. “I wholeheartedly concur.”

Ben shot him a look. “You coulda just said yes, baby.”

Sue smiled at him warily. “Oh, be quiet, Ben,” she said, some of her usual spirit returning. “You know you love him.”

Ben glanced at Reed and then back at Sue. “Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. “Dammit. I do.”

Reed hid his smile.

* * *

They saw her, standing in the midst of the great hall, when they reached the top of the stairs.

The White Queen.

“True love saves the day,” she sneered. “How _utterly_ banal.”

Sue felt the rage that had driven her to the Celestial Palace welling up once more inside her. “It’s powerful magic, though, isn’t it? That’s why you tried to drive a wedge between the three of us. You know you can’t beat us as long as we love each other.”

They felt a blast of malice hit them that was so cold and fierce it nearly knocked them over. “It was too tempting,” she said. “I needed only to expose your deception to the people of Zyndar and the negotiations would have been at an end.”

“You failed, your highness. Ben and Reed are mine. And I am theirs. The negotiations will continue, and then the armies of the three worlds will band together and tear you down. That’s why you have kept them separate, isn’t it? Kept them fighting. You knew that if they ever united against you, they would win.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled cruelly. “But I have lured you here now. You will not escape. And without you…the negotiations will fail.” She raised her eyebrows coolly. “You could not have thought it would be so easy a task to escape me. Three mortals against the White Queen?”

“We’re not ordinary mortals, your highness,” Sue said. She smiled. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

“A trio,” Reed said abruptly. “The three of us together. That’s what you fear, isn’t it? And the three princesses together. Somehow…we challenge your power.”

“Nothing so simple,” the White Queen said. “An ancient prophecy that claims that only the love of three has the power to defeat me.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I hardly think the three of you pose much of a threat to me. You did not even bother to cast protections spells about yourselves. Foolish children.”

She cast a curse at them, and Sue cast her forcefield up around them on instinct, but she still felt it—a blast of pain and anger and she didn’t know who was more surprised, the White Queen or they, when they emerged unscathed.

“What?” the White Queen snarled. “Someone has cast a protection spell around you.” Her jaw tightened. “Well. I suppose this will take longer than I had anticipated.” She pulled an iron sword as though from thin air. “But I will kill you all regardless.”

Sue created a sword out of one of her forcefields. “Stand back, boys,” she said harshly. “I’ve got this.”

The fight raged for the better part of an hour. When Sue burst through the front doors, fighting furiously, the White Queen made an error—a slight stumble—but that was enough for Sue to send her sword flying out of reach. Reed stretched quickly and plucked it from the ground to ensure that the White Queen could not retrieve it.

A look of pure, ice-cold fury settled onto the White Queen’s face. “So you have won the battle,” she spat out, “did you think that meant that you had won the war?”

She spoke dark words of magic into the foul air of Yaor and then…it was as if a cresting wave of white burst forth from her slim form. It grew, and grew, and grew up to the heavens.

“A dragon,” Sue said faintly. “She turned into a giant dragon.”

“Lemme at her,” Ben said, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “I’ve always wanted to punch a dragon.”

“Since when?” Reed said. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

Ben shot a glare at Reed over his shoulder. “Since always. Just cause I don’t mention a thing doesn’t mean I don’t wanna do it, baby. I wanted to do you and never said anything, didn’t I?”

Reed had to concede that point.

“Boys,” Sue said. “Don’t you think we should focus on the giant dragon?!”

“Why?” Ben said. He morphed into the Thing. “We c’n take a dragon.”

“Perhaps,” the White Queen said in a great booming voice. “But how will you fare if you have no powers? It occurs to me that I cannot kill you. But that does not mean that I cannot strip you of all that is yours." She spoke them again. Dark words, foul words, words that made the world around her shiver and quake. "Now you are defenseless."

Sue tried to cast a forcefield in front of her...but realized she could not. "What?" she said, wide-eyed. "No! You—you took my powers!" Her eyes narrowed. "Reed, hand me that sword! This bitch is going _down_." Reed threw the White Queen's sword at Sue and she plucked it from the air, ready to fight once more. "Did you really think that taking away my powers would slow me down?"

The White Queen laughed cruelly. "That little sword will serve you not at all against my armies." 

“What armies?” Ben asked, baffled. “In case you haven’t noticed, yer the ugliest one here.”

“ _Those_ armies,” the White Queen said, and she pointed a sharp claw at the charred hills behind the palace.

Sure enough, a tidal wave of monsters was heading their way. Sue could see, even from this distance, giants and trolls and werewolves and zombies and red caps…

“Oh, no,” she sighed. “This is going to take us a _week_.” Sue discovered that she was very, very annoyed by all of this. She glared murderously up at the White Queen. “All I wanted to do was go home and have sex with my boyfriends!” she hollered up at her, pointing her sword menacingly at the White Queen. “And you _ruined_ it! And you took my powers! You are _so_ going to pay for that!”

And then Sue attacked.

She was so busy fighting the White Queen, in fact, that she did not note the specific moment at which the armies of Zyndar, Selus, and Erum arrived to their rescue, all dressed in the shimmering armor of their respective worlds.

* * *

And so began the Great Battle of Yaor. It lasted seventeen days. On the eighteenth, the White Queen fell beneath the combined might of the princesses of Zyndar, Selus, and Erum.

Seitul struck the final blow that sent the White Queen’s head toppling to earth, and then she raised her sword skyward and the three armies erupted into raucous cheers.

Later on, those moments would fade from Ben's memory. He wouldn't recall the moments of glory, when the battles were lost and won. He remembered Reed and Sue.

Sue, in the golden armor of Zyndar, leading troops, sword held high, atop a white steed, golden hair streaming behind her in the wind...she was _glorious_.

Reed, scruffy and bedraggled after returning from his dangerous work with the princesses' spies, and how he would collapse into Ben's arms every time he saw him as though there was nowhere in the world he'd rather be. 

He would remember sharing what passed for a meal in the Zyndarian camp after so many weary, hopeless days of being cut off from supplies with Reed and Sue, and how their faces glimmered in the dim firelight. 

He would remember how it felt to lay down wherever he could find a quiet spot to rest, only for Reed and Sue to curl up around him, battleworn and weary, too tired to even contemplate stripping out of their clothes, as they slumbered together.

He would remember the peace, the contentment, the rightness of being with Reed and Sue, really being with them, even in the midst of so much violence and bloodshed. 

The end of the war had not come soon enough.

They felt as though they had been gone a year by the time they wearily filed back into their old bedroom on Zyndar. 

"God," Sue said, dragging a hand blearily over her face. She sat at the foot of the bed. "I think I could sleep for a week."

 They had eagerly been awaiting the war’s end, knowing that it meant that they could come back here and, at long last, have sex. It had been impossible to find any peace, and quiet, during the war, and they were always so tired.

Ben found that his endurance diminished greatly without his powers, and he grew tired far more quickly. He wasn’t used to that at all.

But he knew also that this wasn’t the time. They were all so tired. Reed seemed as though he could hardly stand upright. Ben had no idea how long it had been since Reed last slept. He had pushed himself, those last few days, with a nearly superhuman endurance.

Ben glanced down at his mudstained, bedraggled clothing, then over at Reed and Sue. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d bathed.

“We should probably take a bath, though, baby,” he pointed out. “Unless you want to get dirt on everything.”

Sue sighed wearily. She nodded her head, too tired to muster up the energy to speak.

They were all far too tired to take turns in the bathtub, and far too tired to argue about who went first, so they all piled in together. The bathtub was built for three.

Despite the fact that it was the first time Ben had seen Reed and Sue naked, there was little sexual about it—he was far too worn out to even contemplate the possibility of having sex.

Sue was so exhausted that she soon began dozing off in the warm, soothing water. Ben washed her hair as well as he could, wiped the dirt gently from her bare body, and then he did the same for Reed.

He woke them long enough to pull them from the tub, towel them off, and send them to bed. Sue didn’t even bother to put on her nightgown—she simply stumbled to the bed, pulled back the covers, and threw herself in face first, sighing with relief at being, at long last, in a plush, comfortable bed.

Reed and Ben quickly followed suit. Sue’s hair was wet and cold where it was plastered against Ben’s cheek, her bare skin warm and smooth beneath his.

It was funny, Ben thought as he drifted off to sleep, curled around Sue, while Reed was plastered against Sue’s other side. The bed had seemed so small before. Now that he belonged to Reed and Sue and they to him, it felt as though they were sleeping in a vast sea of perfumed silk sheets.

* * *

Sue didn’t know how long she slept. She collapsed into the bed after the nice, long, leisurely bath she’d taken with Ben and Reed was over, and she’d been asleep before her head hit the pillows.

Being a general in the midst of a war with a whole host of supernatural beasts had, it turned out, been exhausting.

She knew only that when she awoke, the room was filled with the pale light of dawn, despite the fact that it had been the early hours of the morning when they collapsed into bed. They had, it seemed, been asleep for at least a day.

Ben stirred above her. He was virtually crushing her into the mattress. “Mmm,” she said, half-asleep. “Ben? You awake?”

Ben shifted and burrowed his face into her neck. “‘m awake,” he rasped out. “‘m awake.”

“Good,” Sue said.

She reached her hand up, far too self-conscious of the callouses that covered it now after so many long weeks of sword fighting, and fumbled her way to Ben’s cheek. She tilted his face until his lips brushed against hers in the darkness, and she began kissing him. There was no urgency to it, no hunger, no need to turn it into anything more.

God. She had wanted to kiss Ben…so many times. Never had she allowed herself to think it in so many words. Always it had been the hidden truth of her feelings for him.

She thought about the moment she met him—a box wedged high up on his shoulder, above the football letterman jacket he wore so often. He had seemed so dashing, so handsome, and she had liked him instantly. She had wanted him too. There had been a period, in those first heady days after they all had met, she and Reed and Ben, when she truly hadn’t known which of them she would end up with. When she had been sure she was in love with them both.

But then Reed had asked her first, and she had buried all she felt for Ben, too swept up in her new romance with Reed.

But there had always been a part of her, she realized now, that took a bit too much interest in Ben, particularly in those early days when he would strip off his shirt, all sweat and rippling muscles, in the hot summer sun. The sight of him had been enough to make the heat rise to her face. She could admit to herself now what she had never been able to admit then: she had wanted Ben, as much as she had wanted Reed.

It had simply never occurred to her that she could have them both. That she didn’t have to choose.

She had been so afraid for so very long that they would both leave her, the two men she loved more than anything, and she’d be left alone.

But she had…now she had more than she had ever thought possible.

She deepened her kisses as they began to take on more urgency and need, and she twisted her fingers harshly in his close-cropped hair and pulled him in close. She moaned, softly, quietly, when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, imagining what it would feel to have it sliding into her cunt instead.

She gasped, pleased, when he moved to nose gently down her neck, moaned encouragingly when bit into her collar bone, dug her fingers into his broad, broad shoulders and let out a long, throaty moan when he began to mouth at one of her stiff, peaked nipples.

When he slid a hand purposefully up the tight, corded muscle of her thighs, her breath stuttered.

She dropped her legs open, inviting the touch of his hand, the thrust of his tongue, whatever he saw fit to give her, and said, “ _Ben_.”

He dipped a slow, exploratory finger into the heat, the slick wetness between her thighs, and bit down on her nipple, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make Sue hiss and moan, make her hips roll and buck at the dual burst of pleasure. Sue felt so _wet_. She felt as though she was dripping already.

“Ben,” she chanted breathlessly, over and over, as his fingers circled slowly, surely, around her clit.

Sue hadn’t realized she was getting so loud, but she must have been, because it was enough to awaken Reed. He bent his dark brown head and joined his clever mouth with Ben’s as they both mouthed at her breasts, licking and sucking and biting down _exactly_ the way she liked. Reed was the world’s smartest man, after all, and he had made her, the intricacies of her body, of her likes and dislikes, the focus of his undivided attention so many times over the last few years. He had studied with an intensity that made her shudder how to make her come, hard and fast and often, on his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

He knew now _precisely_ how to make her cry out, and loudly, once he slid his fingers deep inside of her. Sue gave a choked off cry that turned into a deep, throaty moan when he curled his fingers upward and hit that spot inside of her that made her body light up with pleasure.

She was close, she was so close, she could feel it in the way she was tightening down around Reed’s fingers as they pumped in and out, clenching around them as though they were the cock she wished they were. She moaned in fervent protest when Ben knocked Reed’s hand away.

All desire to complain, however, flew out of her mind the moment she felt the head of his cock pressing against her, and she _howled_ when he thrust inside of her in one quick, brutal thrust that filled her so completely.

“Yes,” she chanted desperately, “yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes_!”

Ben’s big, strong, rough hands gripped her hips tightly as he started to thrust, and the rhythm they found together was perfect, so perfect, and Sue was sure she had died and gone to heaven. Her lithe, golden body arched up to meet his as he fucked her, skin slapping roughly against skin.

Ben’s mouth was hot against her neck as he slammed into her, his fingers digging into Sue’s hips hard enough that she _knew_ he’d leave a ring of purple bruises, knew too that she’d feel them every time she moved in the days to come, knew that she’d remember this, here, and how it felt to have Ben’s thick, gorgeous cock buried so deep inside of her.

She saw Reed watching hungrily as Ben fucked her mercilessly and she didn’t—she wanted him to join in but…she lay her hands down against the sheets, palms up, and hoped that Reed would know what she wanted. She couldn’t—couldn’t possibly form a coherent sentence now, not with Ben’s cock pistoning in and out of her like that.

Reed knew. Reed always knew what she wanted. His shaking fingers circled her wrists and pinned them down against sheets that felt so cool in comparison to the raging fire that was Ben, that she saw within Reed’s eyes, that she felt within her own breast. 

“Mine,” Sue said, because they were, because they always would be, because she knew that now and nothing had ever felt sweeter, “you’re both— _mine_.”

She felt Ben’s hips stutter, heard him moan her name against her neck, felt him lift her hips higher, his fingers tighten around her hips, and if she had thought he had been fucking her frantically before, it was nothing compared to the ruthless pace he set now, and it made her _wail_.

She came like that, on Ben’s cock, Reed’s fingers pressing down around her wrists, her body arching impossibly high off the bed as it seized, tight as a vise, around Ben’s cock. Ben thrust in once, twice, thrice, and she felt him convulse and spill, hot and wet inside of her, and she wished she could have come again, from the sharp burst of pleasure that caused.

Afterward, she pinned Reed as he lay face down against the sheets and Ben opened him up relentlessly with his fingers and tongue, and Ben didn't stop until Reed was sobbing and begging for Ben’s cock.

She kept holding Reed in place while Ben fucked him, and she and Ben kissed above him, their tongues twisting together as they moaned and moaned, because everything was so perfect, better than she had ever imagined her life could be. 

* * *

An endless celebration began the moment the victorious armies returned to Zyndar, and they redoubled when the princesses announced that, now that there was little need for a peace treaty, they were to be wed within the week. 

Seitul still found time to escape to the sacred grove for a revel, and this time, Ben, Reed, and Sue all accompanied her, and it was better, Reed thought, having Sue there. She seemed to delight in the experience of having sex beneath the wide-open sky, the stars wheeling overhead. It made her feel wild and reckless and free, she said, and Reed enjoyed nothing more than seeing Sue's bliss and happiness.

When Sue suggested that, when they returned to Earth, they'd have to make a point of going camping more often, Reed choked.

Ben, on the other hand, grinned excitedly.

Reed supposed that he had better start researching isolated locations where they were unlikely to get caught.

* * *

The princesses were indeed married a week later, in the midst of the endless celebration that had begun the moment it had been announced that the White Queen had perished. 

Reed truly hadn't known that there were so many people on Zyndar, but they all arrived to witness the wedding of the three crown princesses and their ascendance to the throne upon their marriage. 

It took an hour, and Ben wept because it was all so beautiful, and Sue clutched Reed's hand tightly when the booming voice of the ancient treelike priest declared that the princesses' souls would be bound together for all eternity, in this life and the next. "I want that," Sue whispered to Reed. "For us." 

Reed squeezed back. "Then you shall have it, my darling," he whispered back.

Three days later, the newly-crowned queens of Zyndar, Selus, and Erum called Ben, Reed and Sue to their throne room. 

They sat upon three golden thrones, regal and majestic as they looked down upon their three negotiators. 

"You have done us great service," Seitul, now queen, announced. "We promised you three gifts, and three gifts you shall have. What do you ask of us?"

Ben, Reed, and Sue all exchanged glances. They had been informed the night before that it would be today that the queens bestowed their gifts, and that they should think upon what it was they requested.

Sue stepped forward first. "I ask for one thing only, my queens," she said. "Restore our powers."

"It is done," Seitul said, and whispered a few words, bright, and clean, and joyous. 

Reed tried to stretch his fingers, and smiled to see that his powers had indeed returned. 

"Ben Grimm," Seitul said. "What is it you would ask of us?"

Ben was staring down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He knew what he wanted. Sue had been the one to suggest it, and he had spoken of nothing else all evening.

"Can ya," he said, and swallowed audibly, "can you give me something to make it so's I...so's I can always control it? When I turn into the Thing? So that I'm never trapped that way again? So's I can always change back inta me."

"Yes," Seitul said. "It shall be done. I shall have an amulet prepared. So long as you wear it, you will have full control." Her gaze alit upon Reed. "Reed Richards of Earth," she said, and if her voice seemed warmer, Reed couldn't blame her. They had spent much time together during the war, and she had, he thought, grown as fond of him as he had of her. "What is it you ask of us?" 

Reed glanced at Sue, who nodded, and Ben, who did the same, and then back up at Seitul. He squared his jaw and said, "We would like to be wed as you are wed here on Zyndar. So that nothing, not even death, can ever rend us asunder."

"If I grant this wish," Seitul cautioned, "your souls will be forever bound to each other. You will never love another."

Reed did not stop to ponder his reply. "Your highness, I have never loved anyone else, and I never shall. I loved them from the moment my eyes first beheld them, and I will love them until death closes my eyes for the final time. They are mine, and I am theirs. We have always belonged to each other and always will. Your marriage would simply be the formal recognition of that love, and that is all we ask for."

Seitul bowed her head in assent. "It shall be done."

* * *

Ben, Reed, and Sue's wedding was far smaller than the princesses' had been, but it was no less beautiful.

Sue didn’t know who cried harder, she, Ben, or Reed, but she did know that none of them had ever been so happy.

Her own heart was so full of joy, she feared it would burst.

Sue _was_ Cinderella, but instead of one Prince Charming, she had somehow, magically, unexpectedly, ended up with two.

* * *

They left Zyndar the next morning, after a spectacular wedding night that left their bedroom rather the worse for wear. 

Ben wasn’t sure that bed was salvageable. He felt guilty about that, but it was mostly Sue's fault anyhow.

He, Reed, and Sue watched Zyndar vanish from the viewport of their spaceship with no small amount of sadness. That planet would always have a special meaning for them—it was where they had all found their way to each other at long, long last. 

“Kinda sorry to be leaving that dump,” Ben said wistfully. “I hated it at first, but it grew on me.”

”I thought it was gorgeous from the moment we set foot on it,” Sue sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do without it.”

Reed turned from his copilot’s seat to smile at her reassuringly. “My darling,” he said. “We can always return any time we feel like it. Besides, now that the Zyndarians, Erumskians, and Selusians have the Celestial Palace back...we may be seeing far more of them on Earth.”

”Earth,” Ben said, frowning. “Right. What are we gonna do...about us when we get back to Earth?”

“What do you mean, Ben?” Reed said. “We’re married. That won’t change no matter what planet we’re on.”

”Yeah,” Ben said. “But it’s kinda illegal in the U.S., Reed, all three of us bein’ hitched. We could get thrown in the slammer if anyone found out.”

”Then we’ll just have to keep it a secret,” Sue decided. “We’ll tell our family and friends, but we’ll keep it a secret from everyone else.”

Ben’s stomach dropped. He had spent so many years pretending that he wasn’t in love with Reed and Sue. Was there never going to be an end to the lying? It had been so freeing, these last few weeks, to be with them, really be with them, without having to hide it. He had kissed Reed in the middle of a busy market street and no one had looked at them twice. They had walked around the palace, arm in arm, and all they received in return were fond smiles.

It wouldn’t be that way on Earth. Less so if people discovered that the three of them were married and not simply dating.

”We _could_ use our celebrity to combat an unjust, antiquated law,” Reed said, because of course. Of course he would think first about improving the rest of the world, no matter what it cost him. “We have the wealth and the resources.”

”They already think we’re monsters, baby,” Ben said. “I don’t think that’d help much.”

” _Some_ people think we’re monsters,” Sue countered. “Others love us.”

”They’ll stop loving us if we try this,” Ben said. “They only love us ‘cause of the PR teams Reed’s got workin’ for us round the clock.”

”I still think we should try it,” Sue said. 

“I wholeheartedly concur,” Reed agreed.

Ben sighed. “So this’s how it’s gonna be, is it? You two ganging up on me?”

Sue smirked. “You didn’t complain about it last night.”

“That ain’t the same, babe, and you know it.”

”But, Benjamin,” Reed said soothingly, “either we all agree to go public with our marriage, or we don’t do it at all. It must be unanimous.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “We can talk more about it. But I ain’t sayin’ I’ll say yes.” He sighed. “I am still kinda dreadin’ goin’ back, though. Feel like we’re all still in that honeymoon bubble and it’s about to burst.“

”A honeymoon!” Reed said. “Well, we were married yesterday. Surely we’re entitled to a honeymoon.”

That caught Ben’s interest. “Whaddya mean?”

”That we should go on a honeymoon,” Reed said as though it were obvious.

”Yes, please!” Sue said. 

“Yeah, I’m in,” Ben agreed.

Reed began pulling up navigational charts. “Well, we could go to Risa—it’s a pleasure planet and I’ve heard—“

”Yes,” Ben said eagerly. “Pleasure. Let’s go there.”

Reed smiled at him. “As you wish, my love.” He glanced back at Sue. “Risa?”

”Sounds great,” Sue said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get going.”

“So what’s gonna be wrong with this planet, do you think?” Ben asked.

”Nothing,” Reed said with rather suspicious haste. “I’ve been assured that it’s—“

”Oh, baby,” Ben chided. “Haven’t you learned by now that we get into trouble everywhere we go? Somethin’s gonna be wrong with it.”

”I don’t think that’s true—“

”It is, dear,” Sue said very matter-of-factly. “Something’s going to go wrong.”

”Well,” Reed admitted, “I have heard reports of a monster terrorizing—“

Ben began to laugh. Oh, he should have expected this. Reed could never bear to keep out of trouble for long. “That’s why you wanted to go, ain’t it, baby?”

”No!” Reed said. “I was sure we could spend quite a lot of time enjoying their spa and the beach...but I thought perhaps we could duck out to take a quick look around for the monster. If we had time.”

Sue and Ben looked at each other and shook their heads wryly.

“He’s your husband,” Ben said. “You talk to him.”

”He’s your husband too,” said Sue, with a slight smile. “You first.”

”We don’t have to fight the monster if the two of you don’t want to—“ Reed began.

”No!” Ben and Sue said simultaneously. 

“I mean...I don’t think it would hurt,” Sue said. “If we took a little bit of time to fight the monster. If it’s hurting people, it’s...well, it’s our duty to, isn’t it?”

”Yeah,” Ben said. “I just wanna punch a monster right in the nose.”

”Well,” Sue allowed. “There’s also that.”

Reed was trying, not very well, to hide a smile. “Yes. I suspected you might feel that way.” He pressed a few buttons on the control panel. “Course programmed in, Ben.”

”Call me ‘Captain,’” Ben grinned. 

“Oo,” Sue said, eyes lighting up. “Ben, darling...you wouldn’t happen to still have your old Air Force uniform, would you?”

”Yeah?” Ben frowned. “It’s in mothballs but I got it. Why?”

”Just thinking of a few games we could play when we get back home,” Sue said, and the filthy smile on her face told Ben everything he needed to know about the type of games she was contemplating.

”Anything you want, babe, you got,” Ben told her.

”But first,” Reed said, “an adventure.”

”A monster,” Ben sighed happily.

”A beach,” Sue said eagerly. “Reed, baby, did I remember to pack my bikini?”

”Don’t feel like ya need to wear a bikini on our account,” Ben grinned. “You’re never prettier than when ya ain’t wearin’ nothin’.”

Sue shot Ben a warning look. “I am not looking to get arrested, Ben, for wandering around a beach naked.”

”Ah,” Reed said shiftily. “I am certain that won't happen, darling.”

Sue’s eyes narrowed. “They’re nude beaches, aren’t they?”

”Well,” Reed said. “They might be.”

”Might?”

”Are.”

Ben’s eyes widened. This place sounded _terrific_. “Why ain’t you ever taken us to this place before, baby?”

”I thought...it might be awkward,” Reed said. “The nudity. But now that we’re married...”

”Perfect honeymoon spot,” Sue said. She smiled at him. “All right then, Mister Fantastic. Take us somewhere we’ve never been before.”

Reed reached back and took her hand in his. “For you,” he said, smiling, “anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: There's a scene where Ben and Reed have sex while under the influence of magic, and although they were both in love with each other at the time, it still counts as dubious consent because it wasn't of their own free will. Also, since Reed was dating Sue at the time, that means they cheated on Sue because magic made them do it.
> 
> ***  
> So...I would totally be down to write a follow-up fic where Ben, Reed, and Sue tell the world that they're married and have to deal with the press and the public's reactions, and also their friends' and Johnny's. Maybe they also get their poor beleaguered lawyers, Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock (and maybe Jen) to help them sort through the legal mess of getting their alien marriage recognized in the U.S. and, like, narrowly avoiding jail time. It just...sounds like there's a lot of story and also comedy potential there (now I am just imagining Ben having to deal with questions from the press about Reed's stretchy dick, and Sue being happy that now someone else knows how damn annoying that is). Any interest?
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://lamujerarana.tumblr.com/)!


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